


Live by the Sword

by Jezmatron



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 96,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24679915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezmatron/pseuds/Jezmatron
Summary: Etheria, realm of political intruige, high adventure and mercenaries trying to make a living. A world of bandits and city states, where the Great Engineer creates golems in his dark realm, all alone. Where the Whispering Woods are home and hated. Where the Scorpion Kingdoms squabble and Assassin guilds look to manipulate the political landscape of the world to their favour.A former student trying to make it big stumbles into a contract bigger than she realised and comes up against a face she hasn't seen for three years. Will their fated meeting lead to peace or drag the world down?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 459
Kudos: 338





	1. A tavern at the end of the world

The knife spun on the table, point down, whilst she kept her claw tip on the pommel. Idly, she watched the light as it reflected off of the polished steel, the display momentarily brightening their gloomy corner of the tavern. Light from the various candles around the bar barely etched the shadows of this corner.

It was a nice knife. Serviceable. Good weight, decent balance. Worthless to her, in a fight at least - the blade was too reflective, as it lacked the matt paint of her usual blades; and it was too long to be an effective throwing weapon. It also didn’t have decent reach for close quarters and was too long for close up wet work.

But she’d taken it as loot from their last job - an extra over and above the contract pay they’d received. That was part of the deal - scavenging additional gear, surplus equipment or valuables, to help balance the books. And so this was destined for the pawnbrokers or the iron-breakers in the industrial part of their little slice of heaven. But for now, it passed the time while she waited for a decent drink.

Which, considering the bar, was highly unlikely.

A muttering next to her caused her cat-ears to twitch and she slid her eyes to the left, where one of her companions was tinkering with a complex contraption of valves and bellows. She blinked her heterochromatic eyes lazily and sighed, “Can you not do that in here Entrapta? I don’t want to be kicked out of  _ another _ bar for blowing a wall out.”

The short woman next to her paused, “Ah HA! Well, you see that was a fluke. A statistical improbability as I failed to connect the relevant tubes to their appropriately aligned exhaust chambers and…”

“Yeah, don’t care. Stop.”

The woman turned to look at her, purple eyes narrowing in frustration. Her tendril-like hair fluffed as the woman adjusted herself. That still puzzled Catra and she’d known Entrapta for nearly a year now. She’d asked, but the woman had muttered something about Gorgons and  _ splicing _ . Frankly, Catra had tuned it out. She did think there was something Gnomish about the woman and those tiny freaks were nearly as bad as The Master Engineer in the Frightlands..Currently she was part suspended from a rafter by one snake-like ponytail, whilst the rest of her hair was split apart, fiddling with whatever it was on the table. With a huff, the woman swept the whole thing off the table into a satchel that seemed too small to accommodate it, “Well I can’t very well  _ not _ fix it. What if our next contract requires  _ FLAMES _ ? Ooh speaking of flames, does this place have those tiny chicken wings?”

“You mean the Wren-meats? Uhhh… I think so.”

“Oh goody. Let’s order some!”

She sighed and leaned back, rolling her shoulders against the couch. The place wasn’t  _ too _ bad, one of the better taverns in Scorpion Hill. It was a pretty busy trade town, so plenty of opportunity to pick up contracts. Provided they didn’t get kicked out of their accommodation due to excess property damage.

“Hey Catra, uh… got you a Thaymor milk-shot. Careful, guy at the bar says it has kick, some sort of magical zinger! Hoo! Let me know if you like it… aaaaand Entrapta, your tiny beer. That got me a funny look, let me tell you! And Thaymor mead for… me!”

Catra gave a lopsided grin at the last member of their trio. Scorpia. Her most loyal companion. White, short cropped hair, broad shoulders. And the woman was  _ tall _ . Much taller than Catra. She had a large battle-axe slung over her shoulder, which seemed surplus to requirement considering the woman’s size  _ and _ natural talents. A large stinger swung behind her, whilst a set of pincers held a tray in front of her. That last bit rather undermined the intimidating imagery.

Where Entrapta was their trapmaster and mechanical genius, Scorpia was the muscle, the bruiser. Also the best fixer for Contracts - she had a knack for getting the lead on potential work. Catra was the brains and the planner. Also, she knew, she the best fighter out of the three. Yeah she lacked Entraptas gizmos or Scorpia’s strength, but she had something better -  _ cunning _ . That being said, she’d learned a while back that going solo was a dangerous proposition - especially if you wanted to get the good gigs. And those needed larger bands of mercs, and those bands needed  _ reps. _

“Thanks Scorpia. Doubt some Brightmoon distilled piss is going to make me flich…”

“Well, it has other stuff in it too…”

“Yeah, well… Entraptra wants food too. They do that here?”

Oh yea… shall I order us up some?”

“That’d be _great_ ,” Catra leaned back and set her feet on the table and waved Scorpia away, then rolled her shoulders again, feeling the tension. It never really left.  _ Had _ never really left. Not since leaving the Monastery.

“You really should get out of your armour, Catra you look… edgy,” Scorpia paused as she turned to the bar.

“‘S how I want to look. Keeps these chumps from trying anything!”

A few of the more grizzled townsfolk and some solo mercs glanced her way at that, but stayed quiet. Scorpia shrugged, “Fair point, I suppose. Armour from the Shadow Monastery does tend to have that effect! So, food!”

“Tiny food, yes yes,” came Entrapta’s distracted muttering as she rooted through her satchel again. Catra sighed and closed her eyes briefly. The tension in her muscles called back memories. Memories she wanted to sear out of her mind. The Monastery. The training. The  _ pain _ .

The loss.

A flash of gold and a voice screaming to her. Blades flashing as the Knights had stormed the complex. Dark magic flickering out as the Neonates fought the interlopers. And they’d driven them off. But they’d…  _ she’d _ … lost someone. They couldn’t find her body,

The sound of wooden platters clunking onto the table roused her from her doze and she opened one golden eye to regard the food. Entrapta squeaked and fell onto the stack of tiny bird-limbs. Catra shrugged and plucked one with a claw.

“So, what’s the damage to the cash?”

“Eh, we had this included in our pre-mission budget sooo… yeah we’ve still got enough from that last contract for room and board for a week. Maybe some extra for Entrapta to rent a workshop, if we don’t mind losing a day’s bunk time.”

Catra shifted, “We can sleep on the road.”

“Sure thing Wildcat, but, yeah, new contracts are a bit, eh, y’know… sparse hereabouts. The decent ones are too high brow for us  _ humble sorts _ .”

Catra snorted, “Not knightly enough are we?”

“We get the job done!”

“Damn straight,” Catra leaned forwards, taking her feet off the table. She plucked the small glass from in front of her and inspected the contents. White with a few veiny hints of blue. She shrugged then knocked it back. It burned, but  _ so good _ . “Oh that’s… that’s actually good. Freakin’ Brightmooners can do something right!”

She noticed Scorpia was tapping her pincers together nervously. That meant she had something on her mind. For a big girl, she was weirdly twitchy at times. Mostly around Catra, “So, there may be one contract the barman knew about… but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Catra placed the glass down and frowned at Scorpia, “Spill.”

“It’s…. Work for the…”

“Scorpia it can;t be that bad, we need the gold anyway, if we’re gonna replace all of Entrapta’s scrap and get me some new knives.”

Scorpia swallowed and winced, “It’s for the Weavers.”

Catra’s expression went stony, “Yeah. Fuck.  _ No _ .”

“I mean, I know they trained you and you have history and it’s none of my business and, well, they did a good job with the kicking and those knife skills, just beautiful… but it pays  _ really _ well.”

Catra hissed as she felt some sensory pain flare up, “Yeah, thing is Scorpia, you start working for them, you never  _ stop _ . There’s a catch, a hook. It’s never clean with the Weavers. Except the things they want done  _ cleanly _ .”

_ I should know _ she pondered  _ I did enough jobs like that _ .

“So you think they wouldn’t want to work with you?”

“Oh maybe they’d love to. Maybe they’d carve my heart out. They don’t like it when their graduates go freelance.”

“Ok, that settles it. We hang here, get our bearings, then try the Alderman in the next town. Bound to be some pest removal or some escort work…”

Catra groused, “We’ve been doing that for  _ months _ …. Fuck we need a break…”

Her mind warred with itself. Advancement at the risk the wrath of her former Order? Or chance a new town and some low-pay cleanup jobs that would  _ just _ cover the cost of food for a few days. She looked down at the studded bracers on her arms and let her memories bubble up.

\---

_ “Keep your guard up! Sweep the legs! ADORA! Mind your flanks!” _

_ The arena was one of about ten spread across the gargantuan monastery. Surrounded by cloistered halls, this one was currently playing host to a training melee. The Neonates, clad in leather bindings, sandals and bracers, wielding everything from quart staffs, to bucklers and batons. _

_ The commands were being barked at them by one of the Sisters. Catra didn’t know which one - they all looked the same. Red robes, creepy mask. The Brothers weren’t much better, wither their wraparound leather armour and demon masks, And the names were just titles - you couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman under there. You could barely tell the species. _

_ Her inner observations were interrupted by a snarling lizard-man who lunged at her with twin sticks. A staff came out of nowhere deflecting the strike and sending the lizard off balance. _

_ Catra turned with a hiss and glared at her ‘saviour’ “I had him!” _

_ The blond girl shot her a smirk, then twirled the staff, “Who says I was saving you?” _

_ Catra brought her own up to deflect the blow that came her way. Her frown shifted to a feral grin, “Oh, wanted me all to yourself.” _

_ The staves clacked together and the girl leaned in, blowing a frond of hair out of her eyes, “I just want to show you what skill looks like.” _

_ Catra swallowed but kept her grin, “Then get me a mirror, show off,” she dropped and swept the leg, causing the blond to tumble. The girl was fast though and she rolled up right, bringing the staff in, forcing Catra to jump up. _

_ The pair went back and forth, Catra using the walls to vault to gain advantage, her opponent blocking blows and taking shots where she could. Up until she did something dirty. Their staves met again and this time the girl grabbed Catra’s in one hand and pivoted. Catra instinctively gripped the weapon tighter and was forced to follow it as she was flipped over the girl to land on her back. _

_ She looked up as the girl planted her staff into the middle of her chest. She glared up at her, “HEY, Adora, no fair!” _

_ The Sister drifted over, their movement ethereal, “Disappointing, Catra. You rely on your weapon, you focus too much on a  _ thing _. It is a tool. We are all implements. No single thing should be so valuable that you cannot let go and adapt,” That blank, red mask turned to Adora, “Well done Neonate. The rest of you. Learn from this one. To your chambers. We commence the next lessons in two rings of the candle clock.” _

_ A chorus of “Yes, Weaver,” echoed around the cloister. Catra felt her breathing go ragged with shame and she squeezed her eyes shut. At least she wasn’t getting whipped this time. Her irritation flared as a soft voice broke through. _

_ “Hey, c’mon. Let’s go get cleaned up,” Catra blinked and saw a pair of grey-blue eyes staring down at her, Adora reaching down with one hand. With a hiss, Catra batted the hand away and rolled to her feet. _

_ “You beat me. I don’t need your pity.” _

_ Adora frowned and pursed her lips, “And you kicked my ass yesterday. And you beat me to the watchtower. Wooo, I got you this time Catra,” she shrugged, “So work harder to get me… back,” The blond gave a wink that sent strange signals through Catra’s brain. _

_ She huffed but managed a disgruntled “fine” in response, which got Adora smiling. _

_ “Great. Now, c’mon. I have….” she leaned closer, “some of the nut-bread from the kitchens,” THAT got Catra’s attention. _

_ “You should’ve led with that, dummy.” _

_ “Well, i want what we have to be a genuine friendship, not transactional,” huffed Adora with a grin. _

_ “Remember Octavia’s lesson, blondie - you get more with a lure than a frontal attack.” _

_ “Oh so you can pay attention if it’s a metaphor?” joked Adora. _

_ “A what? Nah, just go with the plan that has the best possible success rate. No time wasting on unnecessary crap.” _

_ Adora looked pained for a moment, then shrugged, “Fine, whatever. C’mon Catra, let’s go just… breathe for a bit.” _

_ And that slight look of dejection twanged at something in her gnarled soul. She hadn’t known much of a life beyond the Monastery, beyond the rites and rituals they were going through to become members of the Shadow Weavers. The pinnacle of the Assassin guilds. Bringing order and peace via the application of precise intervention. Doing good, though their own pain would be great. _

_ But she didn’t like seeing Adora… sad. She wouldn’t admit it, barely to herself. So she bumped the girl’s shoulder with her own, “Alright, let’s see what this dumb bread is all about. And next time it’ll be your ass in the sand.” _

_ “Oh yeah?” _

_ “Oh yeah. It’s a date.” _

_ \------ _

“You ok Catra? You, uh… zoned out for a second there?”

She ran her hands over her face and looked at Scorpia, “No other contracts?”

“Just some ones to clear out a feral gnome infestation…. And one for some sort of Ghost town.”

Catra sighed. Gnomes were out - they were small and  _ bitey _ . The feral ones at least. And Ghosts… not their real remit. You needed a good mage for that, or an alchemist at least. And Entrapta skewed towards the more mechanical side of things. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Risk hanging around town on the off chance of a contract? Burn through their cash waiting?

Or take the promised reward? Yeah it’d mean interacting with a Sister or Brother maybe but… well, after the whole attack against the Monastery, the Weavers weren’t going to be too fussed about a wandering former Blade, were they? Hell, her history would probably guarantee them the contract!

“Ugh, fine. Setup the meeting. Let’s see what’s so important the Weavers bother coming out from that shithole of a broken temple.”

“You won’t regret this Catra, rumour is it’s a juicy bounty! Oh I’m excited. I think this is the start of good things, I really do.”

Catra groaned. Her gut was telling her something entirely different


	2. The first pebble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra mulls over things and they move to the meeting

Catra spent the next hour sharpening her various knives. She’d taken the Weaver’s lessons to heart - don’t rely on your tools too much. Which was why she liked knives - small, throwable, disposable and multi-use. And when she ran out, she had her claws, which many opponents never really took into account.

The matt black of the leaf shaped blades made them look like ominous tear-drops, whilst her thin blades for wet work looked more like needles. They all slid into various bandoliers and sheaths across her armour and seemed to vanish into it. That was part of the armour’s design. Any magic around it was mostly illusory, and light touch of that. Mostly it was just  _ very _ functional wrapped leather and padding, with pouches and a darker shade that allowed her to blend into the darker parts of the world she found herself in.

Entrapta had bustled off to rent a workshop, one of the few in this part of town that allowed non-Scorpions to use its services. This particular Scorpion principality was a little traditional, off the main streets at least. But it was a good place for Scorpia to get leads from; female Scorpions tended to get a bit more in the way of respect. And any number of males falling over themselves to woo or offer a good word.

It was actually a little bit pathetic.

Right now, she was idling her time whilst her friend set up the meeting. She wasn’t sure what to expect - would the Weavers have a Sister here? Or a Brother? Or would it be one of the Initiates, or the Champions? She herself had gotten to Initiate at least and had been on the cusp of Champion before she’d decided being a pawn for a shadowy organisation of Cultists was not the best long term plan.

Her reverie was interrupted by the heavy clomp of boots and she looked up to see Scorpia approaching. She flicked one ear and arched an eyebrow, “So?”

“All arranged. We should be meeting the contact at the market. There’s a covered souk there, where we can, uh, discuss things.”

An open area, well populated, but a venue that allowed for some discretion. The markets here always had places set aside for hookahs or open air  _ luxuries _ of the flesh or furred variety. Taverns like this one were a cool respite, but most business would be conducted out there.

“So, now?”

“Yeah, we can grab Entrapta on the way. Saw her in the forge down the road, think she’s nearly done.”

“Yeah, really don’t want to lose her here. She’ll end up rigging some sort of wind-trap to a house or blowing up an Alderman just to see what colour his kidney is,” muttered Catra. She wondered why she kept Entrapta around at times. Then her memory reminded her of the strange woman’s particular specialities. Namely, explosions,flames and the ability to unlock damn near any lock.

Scorpia nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, I think we’re on a record right now. Five hours and no rubble.”

Catra glanced at the big woman. There were times when she sometimes  _ sometimes _ thought Scorpia was being sarcastic, wry or disingenuous. Except the woman’s face was as open as a scroll. Just a firm smile and honest eyes. Catra huff and slid the last of her blades into their various sheathes, “Let’s do this then. Any idea what they look like?”

“Contact says it’s a group of three.”

Catra paused and relaxed, “So probably a group of Neonates, or Initiates. Thank  _ fuck _ .”

“Why is that good?”

“One Sister is bad enough. And the Brothers don’t like being seen in public. So if it’d been  _ one _ it’d have been a Sister. And they are fucking  _ awful _ . I can deal with the footsoldiers. They’re still mostly… people.”

Scorpia frowned as she saw Catra shudder. But the diminutive, lithe cat-person was composed again in a mere moment. She swept her tousled mane back and wrapped it with a leather strap, “So no scary witch lady then?”

“Had a run in with the Weavers before, Scorpia?”

“Eh, my family has. A generation back. My grandfather apparently employed them to assist with some sort of principality political restructuring. Whole scrolls about it back in the fa- I mean the local histories.”

Catra squinted at Scorpia. Truth told, she didn’t know a lot about the woman’s history. They’d met after crossing paths on a contract where the big woman had helped her defeat a band of Salinean pirates. It’d been a bloody fight on a beach and had pushed Catra to her limits just from the sheer number of combatants. But Scorpia had, apparently, picked the contract up from a different fixer and had arrived at an opportune moment.

Watching the statuesque woman cleave through men like a farmer threshing wheat, Catra had realised something: she was at that point on a short path to an early grave. She needed help, hard as it was to admit. If she wanted to make it big and not be some low-rent assassin working for the slave masters of the Crimson Wastes or as a spy for the various Kingly courts across the continent she’d need to make it elsewhere.

No more  _ masters _ . No more  _ ties _ . Just the contracts. A transaction. A single relationship that lasted a job. Anything longer could be measured by small print and an expiry date.

With that view, everything was a cult, really. And if she was going to be a pawn, she’d get paid well for it. And have a decent escape plan.

The pair left the tavern and meandered through the dusty streets. Scorpion Hill was a settlement that acted more like a waystation. There was the remnant of a wooden palisade wall, now useless as more of the domed, clay houses had been built out. The architecture was a mish mash of scavenged wood from abandoned caravans, flat-roofed buildings with cloth awnings atop them and clay-igloo buildings that were set into the cracked earth to keep cool.

They entered the main street that led to the central market, the place that the whole town was built around. The road was wide and the buildings here were mostly two storey constructions. A few stalls selling breads, meats and small trinkets to passing caravaneers were spread along here, the main sellers having the premium stalls in the souk itself. That’s where the decent cloth, the slave auctions and the proper  _ food _ could be found. As well as many other items of varying quality.

Catcalls and seductive voices wafted across the street and Catra rolled her eyes as a pair of muscular Scorpio men flex in her direction. They were wearing baggy pants and silken sashes, whilst the building they stood in front of had a balcony over which lounged some human women in veils. One of the Scorpions called out, “Ladies! Best  _ pricks  _ in town, get high and get off?”

The other one joined in, “We can rough or smooth! Not had pleasure ‘til you’ve sampled this!”

Catra gave them a half sneer and shook her head, whilst Scorpia blushed a deep crimson, her skin nearly matching her carapace that adorned her shoulders and ribs. Catra often pondered the natural armour - Scorpia wore pauldrons over the top of it, as well as bracers on her claws. She only wore a binder and a gut-bracer, to prevent a gut-shanking. She’d probably ask one day, considering most of the Scorpion soldiers she saw tended to go for their natural gear, aside from treated leather tabards over their fleshier parts.

They found Entrapta giggling as she fixed the strange backpack she’d fiddled with in the bar. Catra had a vague idea it was some sort of device for spraying  _ something _ . Their diminutive companion sat atop a clanking set of metal legs, which jiffled idly as the machinist checked parts at the forge workbench. They were, apparently, salvaged parts from one of the Master Engineer’s rogue Golems, now “safely” repurposed. It gave Entrapta a spidery look, augmented by her tendril-hair.

Nearby the foregemaster, a grizzled Scorpion man watched carefully. His demeanour, however, shifted as soon as Scorpia ducked into the awning over the workshop. This area was open to the street, with only a small waist high clay wall denoting the boundary. The forge and wider workshop sat beyond, illuminated only by the faint glow of kilns and various crucibles.

The forgemaster drooped his tail and turned his claws down. Catra frowned at the display, then looked at Scorpia. The woman was bright red again, but she managed to click her claws in a staccato display. The Forgemaster straightened and nodded, “M’lady. Not a word from me.”

The man vanished into the workshop and Catra arched a confused eyebrow, ears flattening for a brief second, “What was… what was that about?”

“Ohhhh just some strange local customs, deference, recognition of, y’know family markings. Social, uh rituals, yeah, all scorpions…”

“The damn pricks with pricks and more pricks didn’t do that.”

“Must not have, uh,.... Well, different professions, different quirks, y’know, eh Wildcat? Gosh is it warm in here? It’s warm in here.”

“Whatever, it’s warm  _ everywhere _ here. You done, Entrapta?”

“Oh YES! I have increased the expulsion flow by…”

“Great, grab your gear. We’re meeting the client.”

“GOODY!”

Catra huffed again and led the pair out and back up the street. The market was crowded now that afternoon was setting in, and with it the cooler air. The wended their way through stalls of sweet-meats, jewels, bread and shoddy iron work weaponry, until they reached the centre.

It wasn’t a bar, per se. An agora - an open air seating arrangement of thrown cushions and pillars, with hookah tables and ribboned cloth above to keep the heat out and the breeze low.

There were people there already, scattered about. A pair of lionesque creatures lounged on one large cushion, each with a lithe, floppy eared maid atop their laps. A reptilian lounged spread-eagled, blowing smoke from its nostrils as it inhaled on a hookah. A horned woman sat, leaning forward, fixed in quiet discussion with a bulky creature with no neck and an eye patch.

Catra ignored them and instead found her eyes drawn to three who stood out. She snorted at the irony. And then her lip curled into a sneer as she realised she knew them. Tall, green and scaly, one wiry and slight. And then the third one of the three turned around. They were close now, maybe ten yards apart. Their eyes met.

_ “Lonnie.” _

“Catra?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one as we build out the world. I wonder where our favourite blond is...


	3. Old friends, old wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too good to be true? A few faces from her past and a reminder of why she left.

Catra glared as Lonnie’s surprised expression turned into a more skeptical one. Arched eyebrow and folded arms, the young woman stared at the cat-girl with puzzlement.

“What’s a washout like you doing  _ here _ ?”

Catra, for her part, only twitched an ear and her glare smoothed into a smirk. She planted a hand on a cocked hip and chuckled.

“I just decided I didn’t want to be a minion, Lonnie. But look at you… still in Initiate dress? What the  _ hell _ ? It’s been two years… you skip a few lessons?”

Lonnie growled and the large lizard stepped up and placed a hand on her shoulder, “You know  _ nothing _ of what we’re doing…”

“Hey Rojelio. Still looking… green. Buff. But green,” Catra’s nod to the tall creature was actually respectful. A contrast to the smirking sneer she gave the slimmest member of the trio, “And Kyle? Wow. I was, like, expecting Neonate. I’m kinda impressed.”

“Uh… hey Catra…”

Her heterochromatic eyes flicked back to Lonnie and narrowed, “So, why are three Initiates out in the wilderness scoping for mercs?”

Lonnie tilted her head and grinned, “You’re here for the contract? Oh wow, Catra, you are… you are in dire aintcha? Coming to the Weavers? Well we don’t want you.”

Catra looked around at the souk, noting a small space had expanded around them, other townsfolk giving them a wide berth, “Yeah well I don’t exactly see a queue of hardened fighters forming to fawn all over you. This was a bust, Scorpia let’s split and find something worthwhile, not a bunch of wannabes.”

“Hey! We ain’t done!”

Catra paused, half turned, a frown on her face, “Lonnie, we didn’t even start.”

“You  _ left _ . You know no one leaves. We can’t just let…”

The cat-girl rolled her head back and made a disgusted noise. Alongside her she heard Entrapta mumbling as she made notes in her journal. Scorpia seemed to be shifting her weight, which Catra knew meant she was ready for things to get ugly. She, meanwhile, just stared at Lonnie.

“Really? After the absolute  _ ass-kicking _ the temple got, the stupid waste of  _ time _ they had us all running around putting down rumours and killing people who claimed we weren’t ‘all powerful’? You’re now gonna try some sort of  _ kill the traitor _ . I left, Lonnie, because I  _ could _ . And no one missed me. And because, what, I was gonna end up in a fancy mask being somebody’s  _ bitch _ ? No future there.”

“We were a family. You left  _ us _ .”

Catra’s tail whipped and she snorted, “What, you feel like… I owe you? People leave, Lonnie. No attachments, that was the whole thing, right? You shouldn’t care. And what, you gonna claim I’m spreading the  _ mystical secrets of the ooooorrrrrdeeeerrr _ ,” Catra scoffed, “I was a freaking Initiate. I can stab someone  _ really well _ . I can hide in shadows - I am sneaky as hell. Hardly world shattering secrets.”

Lonnie snarled and stepped forwards. Rojelio and Kyle shared a glance, but stepped after her. No weapons had been drawn, but the crowd around them seemed to have taken note and was forming more of an audience. Catra let her hands drop to the blades sheathed on her thighs and kept her gaze focused on Lonnie. The dark skinned girl spoke through gritted teeth, “You left us when the order  _ needed _ everyone. You betrayed that trust. We can’t let someone walk around pretending.”

“Oh you mean the armour? Yeah, sorry, it’s nice. But hey, no crest. If anything I’m just coasting on the rep, right?” Catra smirked again, “Really Lonnie? You’re getting all loyalist? I thought you were more pragmatic.”

“We were a family Catra, we needed to stick together. I thought you’d get that after she was…”

Her whole demeanour changed. Claws unsheathed and suddenly she was there in Lonnie’s face, pinprick claws at the girls throat. The other woman flinched but held still, eyes wide in shock. Catra leaned in close.

“Don’t say her name. You have no right. You want to talk family? What did our  _ family _ do to get her back? Or to see if she was still alive?  _ Nothing _ . We were the ones in the yard, fighting. We were the ones who bought the  _ Brothers _ and  _ Sisters _ time. And they ran and regrouped. And you guys… you guys just….”

Catra’s jaw set in a firm line and she released Lonnie. The girl stumbled back and clutched her throat. Rojelio supported her and looked at Catra, then rumbled something in his strange hissing gurgle of a language. Catra just snorted a laugh then looked at Scorpia, “Yeah nothing here worth the money.”

“ _ Stop _ ,” The voice was deep and cut through the chatter around them. Catra froze and turned slowly to glare past the Initiates at a figure she hadn’t noticed. And who she  _ really _ should have. They were partially obscured by the hanging drapes that ringed the shaded meeting area and they were lounging on a set of cushions. The figure rose and pushed past the drapes, revealing a tall woman, almost to Scorpia’s level. She had blue-grey skin, swept back tendrils instead of hair and a  _ very _ prominent eyepatch.

Catra ground her teeth “ _ Octavia _ . Well doesn’t this little reunion get better and better. So, three Initiates  _ and  _ a Champion. I’m quaking.”

The tall woman smirked but it didn’t reach her eye, “Well we’re all honoured to be in your presence Catriana, previously favoured. So close to Champion yourself. And now… well, clearly you’ve moved up in the world!”

Catra shook her head, “Ok, fun as this is, I’m burning daylight when I could be finding a serious job offer.”

“What, you want back in the Weavers?” chortled the octopoidal woman. Her tendrils seemed to flex atop her head, a minor flash of colour coruscating down their length. Catra’s snort of derision made them flush red briefly.

“Fuck  _ NO _ . What, jump back into that dusty, dead monastery? Have you even  _ rebuilt _ half of it? Hah fuck,  _ no _ . No desire to just turn into one of those psycho cultists.”

“You seemed content with our work whilst in the Order.”

“Yeah, it was  _ fun _ . A challenge. But… yeah the whole pledging your soul to the Shadows? Enveloping yourself in the ‘oneness of night’? Yeah, nuh uh.”

Octavia frowned, “You lost faith, easy for someone with no core.”

Catra shrugged, “Then you should be  _ thankful _ I left, right Octavia? Or you still sore your depth perception is all gone? Yeah sorry ‘bout that,  _ I slipped _ .”

Again Octavia’s tendrils flashed red but the woman seemed to still herself, “So, you are here for the coin, not the chance to pledge lives to the Murk?” Catra nodded, “Such base reduction of a holy act to something so…. Crass.”

“Yeah holy devotion doesn’t exactly pay for a bed, does it? Not my fault you guys didn’t decide to charge decent rates and rake it in or whatever. Anyway, you posted the contract. What do Weavers need mercs for? On the whole, not  _ subtle _ .”

Octavia’s mouth twisted in distaste, “The work is not subtle. But… I wanted to see you. I knew you would come.”

_ Oh shit _ , “What.” Catra kept her expression flat, only mildly interested.

“You are hardly subtle in your regalia, for all your vaunted  _ I know how to sneak _ babble. You wear our armour like a shield to the world, not deserving of its protection. We have know of your meagre wanderings, your little adventures I wanted to see if you would be drawn back to us. I had hoped for more but… even a half sharpened blade is better than naught.”

Catra rolled her eyes and turned, her nerves faintly frayed. _They'd known where she was all this time? They could've just taken her_. She dampened her fears and steeled herself, then looked around The crowd seemed to be dispersing, bored, “Ok, yeah you’re well on your way to being a Sister with the creepy all-knowing talk. See ya Octavia, places to be, time  _ not _ to be wasting.”

“Double.”

Catra froze and turned. Scorpia flashed her a confused look. Entrapta hadn’t moved, “Excuse me?”

Lonnie and the others also looked confused. Octavia was smiling thinly, “Your loyalty is to base metals and material things. No higher calling. But, as you say, you were an Initiate. I know your prior skills, Catriana. So does Lonniteria, Rojeliodoras and Kylestan. The work we are looking to undertake is part of something greater. And I would…. Value your assistance. And double the rate to make use of such an eclectic band. A former Weaver is not something a  _ contractor _ would turn their nose up at.”

Scorpia leaned in, “She does know you don’t just up the offer in a negotiation, right?” Catra held up a hand to forestall further questions, her frown going deeper on her face.

“This seems too eager Octavia. Too keen.”

The woman shrugged, “You know our reach. What is gold to us but a means to an end? The order has resources.”

“Yeah shame that didn’t trickle down to us poor idiots you flung into the meat grinder.”

Octavia ignored her, “Pass a challenge and we can talk business. I want to see if your skills are up to the task.”

Catra huffed again, “Really? Why would I waste my time? I’ve lost what, an afternoon already.”

“It’s an… interview. I may not  _ like _ you Catriana. But I know what you can do. As you say, this is not you coming back, though some of the Sisters would dearly love to have your hide for a rug. Some argue your actions reflect the highest concept of the order. And some believe you’ll come back to us anyway. Who am I to argue. I am an implement of the Shadow’s will.”

Catra mused. She was thinking this was a bad idea. Double the already interesting rate. Working this closely with  _ four _ of the Weavers, maybe more? This was going to be some sort of dangerous work. It did not sit well with her. And Scorpia also seemed to think so. The usually bubbly woman was clicking her claws together nervously. It was attracting the attention of a pair of soldiers, their own pincers clicking nervously. Almost mirroring. What was with that? Scorpions were weird.

But this all felt too good and too wrong. They needed the gold but…

“Alright, let’s do it. And then we’ll hear what the job is.”

Yeah they had no real options, beyond pest control. Lonnie was, annoyingly, right. They were scraping. A bad couple of weeks for jobs that were just about keeping them afloat. This would give them a chance to maybe get some better gear, setup a permanent location or  _ something _ . Across from her Octavia smiled.

“Good. Initiates, immobilise her. Catriana… please ensure your cohort don’t try to kill my people. Survive and we talk. Go down and we’ll see whether the Shadow has mercy.”

Catra had her blades out as soon as Octavia stopped speaking. The initiates had clearly been ready and they surged around the woman, moving like smoke. Scorpia squeaked and had her halberd out in a smooth flow to block Kyle’s attack as he came at her with a longsword. Entrapta didn’t look up from her journal, but her little steam-powered spider motor sidestepped Rojelio’s own sword slash.

That left Catra facing Lonnie. Their girl’s blood was up as she came at her at a dead run, sword coming up in a swift uppercut. Catra sidestepped and dropped, her leg sweep merely an opener. Lonnie leapt up over it then swung down as she descended. Catra moved slightly, inside Lonnie’s guard, and used her arm to knock the flat of the blade. Her left arm connected Lonnie’s sternum and she grinned as the dreadlocked girl  _ oomphed _ as the air was expelled out.

The girl staggered back with haggard breath. Before she could move into a fighting stance, Catra was there again. Her strikes were fast, a punch, a kick to the meat of the thigh,a deflection of the blade. Lonnie came back on the attack which forced Catra to backflip away. She still didn’t draw her blades, whilst Lonnie seemed to be content with the shortsword. Catra ducked and weaved, dodging several strikes. She dove in delivering a few claw swipes that skimmed off of Lonnie’s studded armour, the boiled leather only showing the signs of a faint scratch.

They went back and forth, testing defences. Lonnie managed to clear some space then lunged, adopting a fencer's posture. Clearly the girl was more comfortable with sneak attacks and set styles rather than brawling.  _ A mistake _ .

Lonnie thrust the sword forwards. Catra stepped into her guard again and clamped her arm around the shortsorts blad, trapping in between torso and arm. Lonnie tried to pull back instinctively. So Catra slashed her wrist. The girl staggered backwards, relinquishing the grip on the sword and clutched at her arm. Catra loosened her own arm and grabbed the sword hilt as it fell, then darted forwards, sword held in a reverse grip and yanked Lonnie’s dreadlocked head. The blade was at her throat. Catra stared into her eyes.

“And that is why you’re still an Initiate two years later…” she hissed quietly.

Around them the crowd was stunned. Catra pondered the implications. And realised her companions had been equally successful - Kyle was on his back, sword planted in the earth six feet away, a halberd pressed against his sternum but not penetrating flesh. Rojelio, meanwhile, was looking faintly singed and wrapped in a coil of rope.

They’d just bested  _ three _ Weavers. In under five minutes. Well, now the order would definitely be annoyed its reputation was tarnished.

“Bravo,” came Octavia’s voice. But she didn’t sound perturbed at all, “The first band to actually best my little cadre. And so swiftly too. Triple, Catriana.”

Lonnie stared at Catra who slowly moved backwards. The girl inhaled as the blade’s edge cleared her throat. The cat-girl gave her a once over and held the blade to the woman, pommel first. Lonnie took it and nodded slowly, then stepped around her to join Ocatvia. Part of Catra felt that had been a little  _ too _ easy. This felt like she was being reeled in somewhat. She turned to Ocatavia who beckoned them into the cooler air of the shaded seating pavilion.

“So, let’s talk about the job.”

Ocatvia grinned, “Oh yes… we’re going to capture… a Princess.”


	4. No plan survives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is laid out

It was, in essence, a robbery.

A convoluted and meticulously mapped out robbery but a robbery nonetheless.

Catra frowned at the map that now lay spread out over a table inside one of the back rooms of the ale house that Octavia had led them to. A number of other mercs had been present, around eight from what Catra had counted. A varied lot, from a grizzled, mailed lion-man to a small band of serpent-men, clad in lamellar armour.

Octavia had summoned the apparent “leaders” of the merc bands to the back room and Catra had been forced to leave Scorpia and Entrapta to entertain themselves. She just hoped Entrapta didn’t try to dismantle something important.

“Ladies, gentlemen and… whatever else you are. We require some assistance in the service of the Shadow. For this you will be well compensated.”

Catra would normally be lounging on a wall somewhere, but her nerves were on edge, so instead she stood next to the table, arms crossed, scrutinising the small models laid out around it.

“You sssaid we would be after Princessss meat,” hissed the snakeman that stood next to her. Octavia frowned.

“The overall objective of this endeavour is to  _ capture _ the princess of Brightmoon. Glimmer, sole heir of Micah and Angella.”

Catra found this odd. The Weavers were full on involved in molding the political climate of Etheria - that was part of their  _ appeal _ . They took requests from the various Royal households to help push and pull political matters via their  _ unique _ skills. Killing was one, but espionage was another. Kidnap was never really their thing - it was too messy. Mainly because it required just this - more people. And was really easy to trace - people noticed bodies being carried away. And getting the right number of people bribed, murdered or just avoided was a  _ lot _ of work. The Weavers prided themselves on  _ efficiency _ \- a knife in the dark; poison in a meal; the location of a patrol slipped to the right spymaster at the right time. But she stayed silent - a bag of gold at the end of the day was nothing to sneer at.

Even if the payment seemed  _ suspect. _

Octavia laid out the caper - the Princess was expected to visit the town of Thaymor, part of some sort of coming-of-age tour of the kingdom, in celebration of her Ascendance to the Rite of the Moon or some such. Catra wasn’t too bothered by that - incidental detail, not  _ tactical _ .

This meant there’d be a whole lot more soldiers in the vicinity - a legion, apparently, spread across the fringes of the Whispering Wood and all along the main routes to Thaymor.

Which was due to the  _ second _ issue - the route was unknown. Three roads led from Brightmoon to Thaymor, going via various other hamlets and smaller waystations and towns. And the routes were all being patrolled, to mask which one was the  _ true _ path. Which explained the myriad little game-pawns, simple wooden pillars, set across the map, representing legionaries of the Brightmoon Silver Guard.

Catra plucked one from the table and inspected the simple carving - a totem with a helmeted visage. She quirked a glance at Octavia who was glaring at her, “You shouldn’t leave your  _ toys _ lying around, ‘Tavi. I take it the helmet goes in first? When doing  _ charge _ I mean.”

The lion-man next to her sniggered, but silenced at Octavia’s glare, “Puerile. If you are quite done?”

“Nah, not really. Just want to understand something. So, you got all us big bad sell-swords to, what? Charge in and die heroically to a bunch of well equipped troops? I mean, their moral has gotta be low, if their only option was the fucking  _ army _ …”

Octavia  _ tched _ at her, “Not quite. We need you  _ noble  _ adventurers to act as… a distraction on the routes. Naturally, we would not expect you to tackle a full phalanx alone. The Brightmoon troops are brave, well equipped and… untested. Brightmoon has not actually  _ fought _ in an open engagement for thirty four years. So, you’re likely to have more active experience fighting to  _ kill _ . But they do possess numerical superiority and defeating them in the field is not our intention.”

Catra nodded as the lion spoke, “You want us to run interference, bog them down in blood. And you’re gonna nab the prize?”

Octavia inclined her head, “Correct.”

The lion crossed his huge arms and growled, “And then, being Weavers, you vanish like smoke in a breeze, leavin’ us with no gold and a bunch of angry Brightmooners putting bounties out on us. Which wipes out  _ a third _ of our territory that we can work in. Bad for business this…”

He turned to leave, but Rojelio stepped in front of the door. Octavia smiled thinly, “I’m afraid you’re committed. What’s to stop you wandering off now to talk to those pure, simple souls in Brightmoon? We cannot have that.”

Catra stayed silent and watched the exchange. The lion sneered at Rojelio, “Out of my way, hatchling,” and shouldered his way forwards.

Rojelio moved  _ fast. _ There was a fleshy noise and a whimper and the lion sagged to his knees, clutching the stump where his hand had been. Octavia cocked her head, “An improved technique Rojeliodoras. Excellent. Please stem the blood flow and retrieve his hand.”

The lion man looked back, sudden fear in his eyes, “WW….what?”

“Grizzlor, you are still of use to us. And you will be compensated if you co-operate. We still need to work as well… and we could hardly make contract requests such as this again if we have a reputation of  _ double crossing _ our temporarily retained employees,” her eyes settled on Catra, who was  _ not _ reassured. So she barged forwards, verbally.

“Ok, a third up front. Expenses, prep, gear. That’ll buy you some loyalty.”

Octavia cocked an eyebrow, “And the mercs who run once they have  _ some _ gold? Hardly sensible.”

“They’ll run as soon as the job gets tough, if that’s your thinking. You want them to risk it, gotta put your money where your mouth is. You want us moving fast, moving strong.” Catra tapped the map, “Hitting the soldiers will do nothing. We gotta hit them where the soldiers  _ aren’t _ . Lure them off the routes, then strike again when they’re in ‘protect the villagers’ focus. Then fade out. Soldiers oving, off their game, gives your group more time to get in there and grab the Princess brat.”

Octavia looked angry for a moment and Catra grinned as the woman tried to hide a glare, “That… is one way to reinvent the plan.”

“Lemme guess. You came up with this and wanted these guys to just run in screaming? You thought that’d be enough to sucker phalanxes and then stop them to rally to each other? I don’t care about Brightmoon’s fighting prowess - I know those fuckers can  _ march _ .”

“We have many mercenaries retained here and elsewhere,”

“Yeah,  _ no _ . That whole shit about engaging in open battle - that’s what this is, m’kay? No, play to  _ our _ strengths, Octavia. These guys aren’t stealth, they aren’t shield walls. They are fucking intimidating to locals and will give a phalanx something to piss themselves over if there’s a fight. But these guys don’t wanna get bogged down and those silver-crested assholes get some reinforcements going. I mean  _ look _ , they’ve got nearly ten patrols  _ per route _ . That you know about. You, what’s your name?”

“Tong Lashur!”

Catra stared at him, “What.”

“Tong Lashur of the Third Ssssunrise Clan, exiled for selling my spear to…”

“ _ OK! GREAT _ !” hissed Catra as she ran a hand through her hair, “Really doesn’t get better hearing it a second time, so, these guys, snakemen, fast, dangerous. Not as agile as Rojelio there, but good skirmishers. Him,” she pointed at the lion man who had now had his stump bandaged and was nursing a look of grudging respect at Octavia, “Heavy-weights. Smash a shield wall like nothing, but  _ will _ get carried away if you let them. Leave them to a fight, they’ll be butchered and those troops will be back to being able to react to any riders sent their way to pull them onto  _ you _ . So, use us. Or Rojelio can try that trick on me and end up trying to regrow his tail. Again.”

She heard an irritated warble from the lizardman at the door and just shrugged without turning. Octavia glared at her, “Your point… is adequately made.”

Catra folded her arms again and cocked her hip, “Yeah, I know.”

“When did you learn this?”

“I listened, occasionally. And you learn a  _ lot _ being freelance. I’ve done my share of line fighting, past two years. Assassination ain’t a lucrative field. I had to diversify.”

Octavia actually looked mildly impressed, “Very well. Your input is… insightful at the least. So, let us go over this in more detail. We have two days to prepare….”

Catra zoned out briefly as she surveyed the troops and the markers denoting potential placement of the mercenaries.Her eye settled on a single marker, different from the others. It looked more knightly - a horse carved under the helmet. She frowned again but as it was sat with a load of other markers, she dismissed it

She noted the Weavers didn’t have markers on the map. So, did they know where the Princess was going to be? They must do, if all the mercs were going to be doing was distraction. So, they were supposed to basically block the reinforcements and regrouping of the soldiers - that was fine. A lot of gold to just drop their pants and moon the Brightmooners but, hey hazard pay.

\--------

The groups dispersed with coin bags bulging. Catra had actually been surprised the Weavers had the funds to hand. A double cross  _ was _ what she’d expected, but then again the Weavers were not as well manned  _ and _ did rely on good will from their contacts. A reputation for cutting people’s throats after they “outlived their usefulness” meant you’d end up with a hell of a short contact scroll.

She, Entrapta and Scorpia left the tavern with their own purse clinking healthily. They had, somehow, managed to avoid a brawl. Entrapta had just been making more notes and Scorpia had been making friends with a number of the other mercenaries. She’d stalked to the table of lizards where Scorpia was showing them a dice game and explaining something about a few of the more lucrative Scorpion principalities.

Catra had dragged her companions out but they’d paused at Octavia’s voice.

“Catriana, I forgot to mention… you group.. I would like you to accompany us and Tong Lashur’s party. Meet us here a day hence. Thaymore is a days travel at least and we wish to depart tomorrow night.”

Scorpia had eyed her as she turned. There’d been a barb on the tip of her tongue, but she held it and nodded, “Of course, Octavia. I’d like to know more about the specifics, beyond  _ where _ and  _ what time _ to attack.”

“All will be revealed. You can understand our need for discretion.”

Catra shrugged and cocked her head, “Until tomorrow Octavia.”

The tall woman had nodded and disappeared back into the tavern. Catra watched as Grizzlor and his Pride emerged. They were all tall, mainly female, and carried maces. Their armour was scrappy, made of lamellar leather and rings of metal. Grizzlor met her eyes and nodded firmly. He wasn’t nursing his wound; instead his stump was held to his side. She watched as the group set off towards the blacksmith.

“Hooo looks like it got heated in there. You, uh…. You didn’t do that, did you, Catra?”

She smirked, “Nah. Rojelio.”

“The… lizard guy?”

“Gonna have to be more specific, but  _ yeah _ ,” she looked at Scorpia, “In that fight… you feel winded at all? Stretched?”

Scorpia searched Catra’s eyes, then scratched her chin with a claw, “Um, honestly… it was initially but… yeah. That skinny kid went down a bit faster than I expected.”

“Yeah, what I thought,” mused Catra. Overpaid, easy fight to assess. This felt  _ wrong _ . But that dark part of her mind that seemed to just shout  _ let go _ …. It was pushing her on.

_ Adora wouldn’t have gone along with this _ .

Catra hissed involuntarily at the notion and pressed her claws into her palm until she felt the skin break. It was like a release, albeit only a short one, “Yeah, she’d have just wanted to know  _ what _ was going on…” she muttered to herself.

“What was that Catra?”

“Nothin’. Let’s go check our gear. Need some provisions if we’re under the stars. And I need some more ingredients…”

“Alchemists?” piped up Entrapta. Catra gave her a lopsided grin.

“Yeah. Think i need to give the blades an extra coating of something. Got a feeling we won’t have time in this to guarantee they stay down when all this planning goes wrong.”

“OOOOH GOODY! I think I have a suitable… solution… ah here we go,” Entrapta paused as she looked through her satchel and some compartments on her spider-stool, “My NOTEBOOK!”

“You already have a notebook…”

“My OTHER notebook!”

Catra snorted as Entrapta scuttled closer, her main journal suspended in tendril hair, this new book leafed open to a suitable page of ingredients. Catras eyes flicked over it and her grin grew wider, “Oh yeah… that’s what I’m after. So ladies. Let’s go spend our ill gotten gains.”

“Honestly earned!” encouraged Scorpia.

“Psh, haven’t done the job yet, Scorp. Let’s just enjoy the  _ feeling _ . And then I’ll tell you about the mess  _ you’ve _ gotten us in.”

“I did say!”

“Pah pah pah! Details, Scorpia. You said contract, I agree, so therefor… your fault. Now, first, gear. Next. beer. Then, talk.”

The trio set of back into the souk.. Scorpia hummed, Entrapta scrawled. And Catra… Catra worried.


	5. Wind in the trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contemplation on the road, a plan unfurled. A meditation on choices.

The Scorpion principalities were a diverse set of territories. Their lands were predominantly arid desert which shifted to warm tundra as the land sloped northward. To the west it became a rocky morass, interspersed with ruins from older, failed civilisations. Fortresses of forgotten kings, cities half buried in rubble and sand. And to the furthest reaches of their lands stood the Brass Citadel, the home of the Master Engineer. Travelers tended to avoid a direct crossing, going to the south and North, or taking a boat across the Crescent sea in the north to reach the Northern Icelands.

To the east, the settlements and caravan routes meshed to form larger, more heavily travelled roads that threaded through sparse woodland and fields before it transitioned into the outer boundaries of Brightmoon’s territory.

The Scorpions had a diverse approach to architecture, favouring lower buildings with small windows and cool interiors, especially in the south. To the north the Warlords, Patricians and Clutch-lords and ladies had a more vertical attitude, each village more akin to layered ziggurat structures. The western polities went for defence, each village a small fort of wooden palisades and watchtowers, all meant to defend against the Master Engineers escaped creations - wandering Golems and other beasts.

This was in stark contrast to Brightmoon’s approach - uniformity, elegance. The transition could be seen as the small band headed out of Scorpion hill and made the journey into the countryside around Thaymor. Catra sat in the back of a wagon being hauled by a hump-backed horned beast of burned. They moved at a surprising clip and she idly watched Entrapta as she made adjustments to her spider-chair. The woman was engrossed, her face-mask down as she detached and reattached leather tubes and brass nozzles. Scorpia snored next to Catra, the woman’s bundled gear laying on the wagon bed in front of them.

Catra’s own satchel was slung next to her, close at hand. To be honest, her possessions were meagre at best - whetstone, food, blade oils and alchemical concoctions. And a scrap of cloth she kept wherever she went. It was dark with patches of old blood. But she wouldn’t wash it for all the gold the Weavers could conjure.

Her eyes drifted around and she watched as Lonnie rode up to their little caravan. Tong Lashur and his party had another wagon, but were taking it in turns to walk alongside. The remainder seemed to be basking in the wagon bed itself. She’d seen Rojelio eyeing them with something akin to envy.

Lonnie trotted her horse to their wagon and drew up alongside, “Octavia says we’ll make camp a mile from here, just south of the Whispering Wood.”

Catra grunted an affirmation then lolled her head back over the edge of the wagon, eyeing Lonnie upside down, “So, what’s the story, Lonnie? Why’re you hauling me along?”

“Octavia will explain in due time, Catra.”

“Oh, not  _ Catriana _ from you?”

Lonnie glanced sideways and adjusted her reins, “Nah, you were never that fancy.”

Catra snorted, “Yeah that’s fair. So… you and the guys, two years and still working together… that’s… not usual.”

Lonnie didn’t look at her, just gave a half shrug, “Weavers have had to adapt. Not all of us gave up after… the attack. And we work well as a team.”

Blue and gold eyes narrowed, but she bit back the retort, instead a sigh just escaped, “I didn’t see the  _ point _ Lonnie. I didn’t want to end up as a faceless  _ thing _ . A broken order… they let us down. I don’t know why you’re still set on them, but not my business. Just curious why you want that end…. Power? Authority?”

Lonnie glanced sideways and stiffened slightly. Her mouth moved and her jaw set for a moment, “Security. This is not a kind world, Catra… and it’s gonna get worse. Better to be on a side that has a chance of surviving.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “Yeah, cos the Hopers sure backed off that time. The Weavers sure beat them back, didn’t they? Half the place got torched and we lost… we…” Catra blinked suddenly and for a moment Lonnie’s expression softened.

“Yeah… we… we all lost something.”

Catra glared but couldn’t maintain it. She’d prolonged the conversation after all, “Yeah. A shit day. And then I tried, Lonnie. But just didn’t seem worth it. I sent sixteen people to the Shadow. And for what? Become a Champion? Kill more people? Sit on a straw pallet, meditate, eat shit food and then… what? Take the ritual bath and put on a mask and get the Brothers to go kill and the Sisters to go scheme? It just seemed… pointless.”

“And this is better?” Lonnie snorted derisively, “No home, no security.”

Catra gave a lopsided shrug, “I make my own rules, choose my own path. My  _ security _ is of my own making. Are you really safe?”

Lonnie stared straight ahead then nodded curtly, “From the threats that matter…” and with that she spurred her horse on, moving ahead to check the forest in the distance. Catra watched her go, then shook her head. She lay back and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her fur.

\----

They struck camp a few hours later. Catra watched as Entrapta and Scorpia unfurled fur mats to sleep on, along with crude, woven blankets. They were setup a little back from the road, amidst thick undergrowth that they’d spent a good half hour clearing. The wagons were covered and the horses staked near the edge of the woods. The Weavers had setup and covered their tracks, masking the trampled foliage with ease.

Catra dug out a small pit, then set moss and small kindling into it, igniting it with a flick of flint. She place a clay bowl from her satchel atop the flame and poured water from her leather bottle. A few leaves went into the water, along with some grit and grain. The gruel was thin, but would keep their bellies full overnight. No time to hunt or forage as the evening began to settle in, when they’d have to douse the fires. Patrols at night were unlikely but they wanted to be sure.

Scorpia sat in silence, slowly sharpening her halberd. Quiet Scorpia meant she’d moved through nerves right to  _ worry _ . Entrapta didn’t care and was updating her journal with documentation of various plants she was inspecting around their small camp site. Catra watched them, then stood and went to find Octavia. She spotted Tong Lashur’s group, almost camouflaged in the foliage. They hadn’t got fires going; instead they were pulling strange crystals from their shared packs and setting them up in small cleared spaces. One of their number, a more hunched figure covered in whorls of white paint, moved between the stones. Catra paused to watched as the creature traced a clawed finger over the surface of a crystal in an intricate pattern. The crystal seemed to glow faintly and Catra watched as a pair of the lizards settled down next to it, bellies facing the crystal itself. The process repeated and all the reptiles, bar a pair on guard, were soon sprawled around the crystals, 

Basking, she realised.

She shook her head and frowned. Likely some form of  _ magic _ . And magic  _ always _ creeped her out. Low level enchantments were fine, her armour had some charms, apparently, though she was never quite sure if that was just good crafting or if the various mutterings the Sisters did over their equipment actually  _ did  _ anything. It made her feel a bit more confident, so maybe that was all the magic it needed.

But this was always a bit unsettling - that feeling of the world being  _ changed _ faintly, even at the edges. It made her ears twitch and her teeth ache.

She’d had to kill a sorcerer. Her only real exposure to  _ power _ . She’d expected fireballs and flashing bolts of lightning. But it had been much more insidious. Infiltrating a tower that shifted, moved and tried to kill her  _ mind _ . The man had been easy to kill. The doubts, less so. It’d taken her a week to get through the place and find him. And once he’d died, the whole place had revealed itself to be nothing more than a squat ruin. Had she been running through corridors? Or had she just been wandering a ruin in a daze?

She’d never really landed on a comfortable answer.

This seemed mundane by comparison but also a reminder. Entrapta was likely going to cause a ruckus once she realised what the lizards had.

She stalked onward, moving carefully through the undergrowth until she reached the spot where the Weavers had encamped. Each of their little groups weren’t too far apart, in case of incursion. And likely to keep an eye on each other as well. Catra paused at the edge of the Weaver group and leaned against a tree.

“Hey Octavia.”

The woman glanced up from her pack and nodded curtly, “Catriana.”

“So, gonna fill me in?”

Octavia studied her for a moment, then stood. She gestured to Kyle, who scurried over and began unpacking the meagre contents of the satchel - cooking supplies, some light blankets and a couple of parchments. He handed one to Octavia who then passed it to Catra. She unfurled it and studied the drawings on the yellowed paper. Then she glanced up at Octavia.

“This route wasn’t on the main map.”

“Of course not. I expect half the mercenaries to try to double cross us. But when they do, the enemy will think we are only aware of the routes we showed. And they are more likely to reinforce those to ensure ‘we’ focus our attempts. They’ll know Weavers are after the Princess. They will believe we are desperate and have overplayed our hand.”

Catra blinked and nodded, although a frown still graced her forehead, “H-uh… was not expecting that.”  
  
Octavia’s smirk was nearly a sneer, “So quick to judge, Catriana. Your plan was a nice refinement of our original… which helps sell the lie. But that route is the one we know the Princess to be taking. And our little band will be engaging them directly. In stages.”

Catra glanced behind at the lizards, “So, if the mercs are gonna betray…”

“Snake men are single minded. Aggressive when riled. It’s why they make excellent shock troopers; also they are rigorous at sticking to arrangements, traditional to a fault. The other groups were an unknown, so your insight was… useful. So, Tong Lashur is not likely to betray us. And thus can be relied upon to do his part here.”

The feline nodded slowly. It made sense - more reliable soldiers for the more important aspect of the job. The rest were acceptable losses and potential risks that Brightmoon would have to accommodate for - they might not go for the Princess but they would be wreaking havoc on the citizens. And the prissy leaders at the top couldn’t be seen to be prioritising a Royal. Peasants could get  _ feisty _ .

“So… why am I here. My group, I mean?”

Octavia looked at her blankly, “You are a good fighter. Your people are too. And I know you can follow orders given the right incentive. I need good fighters here, to engage the guard so  _ we _ can apprehend the Princess.”

“So I’m the bait?”

“You’re the  _ hook _ Catriana. Do not doubt, we face the best of Brightmoon here. As you so eloquently put it, we cannot best them in an open field. So we will use our strengths. Shock, surprise, speed. We  _ must _ break them first, ensure they are hooked. And then  _ we _ ,” and here she indicated the Weavers, “will be able to do what we do best.”

Catra sighed, “It’s gonna be bloody.”

“Which is why you’re being paid triple, Catriana. What was it you called it in the tavern?  _ Hazard _ pay? Since you won’t be doing what you used to do well for the glory of the Shadow, do it for your paltry Etherian rewards.”

“Any idea of numbers?”

“A phalanx, we expect, perhaps some auxiliaries. A score plus ten at most - they wish to move quickly and with the minimum chance of being tracked between visits, according to our… sources. So a light escort for speed. But well trained troops.”

“What  _ aren’t _ you telling me?”

Octavia smirked again, “As I said. Well. Trained. Troops. These are not wilderness border guards, or some nobleman’s hired lackeys. If you cannot kill them quickly, this will be gruelling. So, we must attack and harry, to ensure our success. For now, eat, rest. I will speak with all later, to prepare for the morrow.”

Catra eyed her for a moment longer then made a  _ tsch _ noise and turned away. She settled down with her companions and scooped another bowled from her pack, then ladeled the leafy gruel into it. The three ate in silence, Scorpia deep in thought, Entrapta engrossed in her journal.

That night, Octavia laid out the plan - a series of hit an runs along the route, to keep their target moving, to wear down the escort. The final snatch and grab was expected halfway along the route, a mile outside Thaymor. Which meant an early rise to get into a suitable position, to allow for the other groups to launch their attacks across the region. The presence of Enchanters in Brightmoon meant communication of those assaults was likely to be fast.

“Above all, we must maintain discipline,” growled Octavia as she faced the gathered group. Lizards, Weavers and Catra’s little band, all sat in a semi circle with only a faint flicker of a lantern to illuminate them in the dusk-light, “Strike, but withdraw. Inflict wounds, force them on. Do not allow them to retreat. Which is why we’re striking  _ here _ \- it is closer to Thaymor than Brightmoon itself, so they will  _ have _ to continue down the road. We must attack, then withdraw, moving around each ambush group, to allow them to believe our numbers are greater. And if they hunker down, we must break them and force them on.”

Catra listened but only picked up a few key details, beneath the flowery, stern dialogue - locations, expected lines of attack, numbers, likely formations. Soon Octavia had them all bedded down to rest and prepare.

“So, uh, who’s on watch? The lizards seem to, uh be kinda up for just staring…” Scorpia seemed even more nervous and Catra offered her a grin.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’re kinda intense. You hunker down, I’ll take first watch. I can see in the dark, remember?”

Scorpia nodded gratefully then hunkered down under her blanket. Entrapta was already sprawled on hers, out like a light. Catra huffed, then turned and scrambled up a tree. She perched on a branch and leaned against the trunk. Her ears flicked, tuning into distant sounds. Evening birds chirped, animals rustled in the brush and the sound of people settling to sleep echoed around.

The sun set slowly and the colours began to seep from the world, turning everything to green-silver as the moon rose. Catra swung one leg below the branch and kept the other pressed to her chest. A sound reached her ears and she froze.

Something pounded along the path nearby. Hoofbeats.  _ Heavy _ . She listened as the sound slowed. She moved quietly and she leapt from branch to branch, moving from their hidden camp to the edge of the dirt track that they’d made their way down. Their camp was set back from that path, which in turn was set back from the main road. And road was a generous term, being little more than a part of cart ruts at the edge of a field.

She peered through the dark but couldn’t make out a shape until she suddenly spied a flash of movement, obscured by a set of branches. It was the other side of the field, far enough away from their own route that whoever it was wouldn’t spot them or their concealed wagons unless they really decided to explore the side paths or fox-trails. And yet something made her nervous.

She tried to move to another branch to get a better look, but she could hear the hoofbeats receding. All she managed to catch was a figure atop a flash of dirty white, which vanished as they disappeared around a bend into the forest.

Catra withdrew, nimbly moving from tree to tree. She descended the trunk and crept to where the Weavers were camped. Octavia was sat, cross legged in meditation.

“Think I just saw a scout.”

Octavia’s eye opened and she searched Catra’s expression, pupil going wide in the darkness, “Are we discovered?”

“No, they were on the other side of the field, checking another patch of forest.”

Octavia nodded slowly, “Good. Kylestan setup a false trail. Did they head northwest?”

Catra nodded, then added a “Yeah. Not fast.”

“We are secure for now. Keep vigil, Catriana. We will need your clever eyes ready.”

Catra moved away, then returned to her position in the treetops. She listened to the wind in the trees, heard their creak as they swayed. It was peaceful, calming. Tonight would be a momentary respite. The morrow would bring death, pain, exhilaration. 


	6. They rode a pale horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Princess encountered, a twist and an unwelcome arrival.
> 
> Violence abounds and plans come undone.

Catra lounged on her perch, high up in one of the trees that flanked the road. And this  _ was _ a road - cobbles and all, clearly well maintained. It even had a few of the signature Brightmoon colonnades along it at regular intervals, once you got closer to Thaymor. She knew that because their approach had brought them over a hill that gave them a view of the distant town. She had an impression of a large central construction of marble and white stone, surrounded by more modest buildings that seemed to sport thatch and clay. And yet it still looked relatively ordered. 

Scorpia had frowned at it, but in a way that seemed to show she was taking an  _ interest _ , “I wonder if, maybe, after this, we could have a closer look? I’ve heard some really interesting things about Brightmoon civil planning and, well, we’d be mad to pass up a chance at…”

“Scorpia. We’re probably gonna be running like hell from angry Brightmoon soldiers with our descriptions if this goes to plan. Maybe not the  _ best _ time to sightsee when we’ve got wanted posters in production?”

“Oh, um, of course Catra. Just, y’know, most of our travels involve a lot of  _ blood _ , woodland, sand, that sort of thing. Chance of pace, y’know?”

Catra had just shaken her head as their band had then made their way to their assigned position. Which was why she was now in a tree, obscured by foliage, watching the road, where it curved around and was obscured by the forest.

More of Tong Lashur’s band had arrived in the morning. Apparently he had a sizeable band of his own, but only took his most trusted troops to meetings and setups. The lizard clearly had more going on up there than she’d given him credit for. A good two dozen reptilians would give the Brightmooners a run for their money.

She glanced down and saw Entrapta scuttle out of cover. The woman had setup a surprisingly complex set of traps in a scarily short amount of time. Admittedly she had a lot of  _ pre-made _ kit, rudimentary pulleys and a lot of rope. It hadn’t hurt that the road cut straight through the woods and had no open space on either side. It was weird how well maintained it was, yet the trees still seemed intent on looming in and over it. She chalked that up to it being the edge of The Whispering Wood and that place was  _ weird.  _ After their camp, no one had a restful night's sleep. After she’d changed with Scorpia for watch, Catra had found it difficult to rest easy. She slept fitfully at the best of times, but rarely dreamt.

So, here they were, Entrapta’s small set of traps ready to disrupt the advance, Scopia ready a little bit up the slope to the side of the road with hastily felled logs ready to roll and a couple of lizards to augment their little squad. They’d been waiting a few hours, but Catra had barely moved. Her eyes remained locked on the curve of the road.

Her ear twitched and she heard the faint sound of cries, muffled by the trees. A clash of metal on metal? Faint roars of defiance? She flinched then leaned over the branch and waved at Scorpia. The muscular woman fixed her with a stare and nodded. Catra watched as the Scorpion unclipped a helm from her pack and settled it atop her head. It was a style she’d seen in some of the arena pits - a crest and a visor dotted with holes, with a splayed fringe around its edge that tapered down behind the neck to protect the rear. Some sort of gladiatorial design. But it’d saved Scorpia from a few knocks to the head.

She straightened and listened again. There was the sound of feet,  _ many _ feet. Not running, but fast. A quick march. And another sound, wood on stone. A wagon?

Their quarry rounded the corner at a brisk pace and Catra grumbled. Fifteen soldiers, all silvered chest plates fashioned into muscular stylings. Sandalled feet slapping against the cobbles as they moved at a fair clip. Spear tips held high, large round shields hugged close to shoulders as they moved. Behind them a troop of maybe five or six skirmishers, archers. And behind that a  _ chariot _ . She saw a figure at the reigns, with another archer next to it. It had to be the Princess. Credit to the girl for not using some sort of palanquin. She’d gone up a little in Catra’s estimation. Even at this distance, Catra could see arrows stuck into the wood of the chariot and a few of the soldiers seemed to be struggling with the march. Tong Lashur’s distraction had likely pinned a good few of the defenders, forcing them to make up a rearguard. A rearguard that would follow if they didn’t work quickly.

First things first - confuse the hell out of the soldiers, to allow Tong Lashur’s troops to catch up - the ones not harassing the rear-guard. Then make sure the chariot couldn’t get a clear run. The fact the soldiers were still with her meant the Princess hadn’t panicked and made a dash. Catra weighed their options - let the girl go, so the Weavers could capture her? No guarantee they could keep pace with a chariot. But disabling that would make her easier pickings once they withdrew.

Yeah no contest. Get rid of the only bit of mobility these shiny idiots had.

The troops drew closer and they were clearly watching the forest.. Mainly the forest behind them.

Mistake.

Catra whistled as the troops ran below her tree. That caused a brief moment of confusion . Then the logs rolled down the slope and smashed into the phalanx. Men and women were sent tumbling, cries of alarm sounding as they tried to rally back. The archers fitted arrows to string but didn’t draw, trying to track potential targets.

Entrapta fired her first trap, which sent smoke to pour across the road. Obscuring the path behind and before the little convoy. The chariot rolled to halt and the horse whnnied. A taller woman to the fore waved her spearpoint in a circle, “Rally to the princess! You there, move the logs, expect an assault any moment! We must hold for the rearguard! Archers! Loose on anything that move-”

She didn’t finish the sentence as Catra dropped from the tree into her shoulders. The moan buckled in surprise but managed to plant her spear but into the ground to brace herself. A Catra had a knife out which she shoved down, through the gap in the armour at the neck. She twisted the blade and yanked it free, then pushed off the woman to backflip to the road. The commander dropped her spear in shock and planted her hand against the wound. She grimaced in pain and locked eyes with Catra as blood oozed from the wound. She sagged further but was still going. Catra was impressed - it wasn’t a mortal wound  _ yet _ . She’d bleed out eventually. But the woman had grit. She could make out silvered hair under the helm, brown eyes glared at her from behind eye slits and nose guard, whilst teeth gritted from between the slit that ran down the front of the helm. The wide semicircle of plumage atop the helm did make her look more ridiculous though.

She didn’t wait to watch the result of her actions, instead she slid into the smoke, and slashed down at a soldier trying to stand from the various logs that now littered the narrow road. Her blade cut deep in the man’s calf and he went down again, shrieking in pain.

Her ears picked up the  _ slap slap _ of lizard feet moving fast over the cobbles, followed by shrieks of pain as the bruisers moved in from behind the chariot. There was the twang of a bowstring followed by a wet gurgle and a crunching sound. Then a voice cut through the confusion, “Commander Sundar? What’s happening?”

Catra smiled thinly - Princess at her right then. A shadow moved in the smoke, which had already begun to clear. She had to move fast. In a few steps she was next to the chariot. She saw the shocked face of a woman no older than she was herself. All pink hair and white-gold cloak. The feline barely spared her a smirk before her blades flicked and severed the traces that fastened the horse to the chariot. She whacked the animal on the rear with the pommel of her blade and grinned as it cantered away with a whinny. Then she leapt back as a pair of soldiers moved from behind her to try and skewer her with their spears.

She didn’t waste time with banter, just moved like liquid. She saw the Princess was staring around her in shock, still holding the reigns. Then her bodyguard, a dark skinned man with a ridiculous set of white-leather armour grabbed the girl, “Glim, we gotta  _ go _ ! We’ve got  _ LIZARDS!” _

Catra deflected a spear point, then dashed inside the soldier’s guard. Before the man could pull his shield in she’d grabbed the rim and lunged past. Her knife entered his throat and she yanked it to the side. The man fell back, blood spurting over his breastplate and silver cloak.

The other soldier moved and drew the spear back, his shield held up and ready. Which was why he was surprised when Scorpia’s halberd buried itself in his shoulder. Catra smirked and moved to the next combatant.

There were another three soldiers down and bleeding. Two archers, one with a nasty chunk of his neck missing and two phalanx troops. She watched as a lizard deflected a spear with its bronze buckler, then lunged forwards with scary-speed to sink the short sword into the gut of a burly woman. Then, quick as a flash, it yanked it free and spun. The buckler smashed into the helm of an archer who’d discarded his bow and had dashed at the warrior with his sword-sword raised. The man feel back with a cry of pain, only for the lizard to lunge forward and clamp strong jaws into his shoulder. His cry went to a high pitched  _ shriek _ followed by a crunch as bone cracked.

Catra darted forwards as she saw the Princess dismounting the chariot, her bodyguard hauling her along. Six more of the phalanx had formed a guard around her, with one of the remaining archers. The woman saw her coming and drew back, letting loose with alacrity. Catra dropped and rolled, sheathing a knife as she did so. The arrow whizzed overhead. As she moved out of her roll, her hand flicked out and a throwing dagger appeared in the woman’s shoulder. It stuck in the armour but didn’t penetrate past the the cloth beneath the leather. It did jar the woman and she fumbled her arrow. Which allowed Catra to close the distance and slice her balde across the woman’s neck with a shallow cut.

The archer went down, clutching at her throat. The wound, again, wasn’t fatal - but the poison would render the woman pretty much useless. Catra moved along quickly, her grin more a set of bared teeth as she saw three of the guard pause to face her. Their shields locked in and she barrelled towards them.

Which was why they weren’t expecting the sudden explosion of flame that hit their right flank. Entrapta’s  _ next _ trap - a firebomb of alcohol and sticky resin. The soldier on Catra’s left shrieked as flames licked up his leg and cloak; his flailing sent the other two off balance and she dodged around them.  The Princess and bodyguard were about twenty yards ahead, moving into the wood, but keep an angle towards Thaymor, with another arched and three soldiers. Catra sprinted after them and grinned as she saw more lizards burst from the trees - their  _ own _ reinforcements. But her glee was short lived. She blinked as the bodyguard turned to the flanking reptiles and loosed an arrow.

The arrow exploded into a net which engulfed one of the lizards and pinned it to a tree. Something whined and the net constricted tighter, eliciting a hiss of pain. Another arrow spun forth and exploded in a flash, causing two of the reptiles to stumble. The second archer fired her composite bow rapidly in succession, slamming shafts into the lizards with frightening speed. Catra palmed another knife and spun it away. The archer shrieked and sagged as the blade bit into her unarmoured thigh.

The bodyguard spun and glared at her, then took a knee and drew. The arrow flew at her and she made ready to duck. Except it exploded two yards from her and sent her sprawling to the side of the road. She hissed in pain and looked up as the Princess continued with her guard. The remaining soldiers were being engaged by the lizards and were making a good account of themselves. One on one, the Brightmooners weren’t  _ terrible _ but they were clearly used to fighting in different circumstances.

With a snarl, Catra ran on all fours, barreling after her quarry. She tucked into a roll and flung a fan of knives at the fleeing pair. She saw the Princess glance back as she did so.

And then watched as the Princess grabbed her guard and  _ vanished _ in a puff of glitter.

Catra blinked, then snarled as the Princess re-appeared further up the road. She turned and yelled, “Entrapta! MAGE! Get the fucking  _ mage _ !”

They’d said she was a Princess. Not a mage. Not someone who could bend reality over a desk and give it an all night round of fun for three copper pieces. This was  _ relevant fucking information _ .

“OOOH! ON IT!” came the shouted response. Catra didn’t look round as she heard a whoosh followed by a scream. Then a sound like some sort of belows being flexed. An object sailed past her and shattered next to the stumbling Princess and a cloud of thick, green smoke bubbled up. The impact was immediate as both the fleeing figures stumbled.

Thing about magic - it requires  _ focus _ . Even natural, inherent ability. Like flexing a muscle, you can’t do it if said muscle is constrained, or damaged. Entrapta was their go to for anti-magic, rare as it was to encounter it. And making mage cough their lungs up made it harder for the bastards to trace runes, mutter incantations or act as the eldritch portal to things best left unknown.

Catra moved forwards and pulled a strip of rag from her belt pouch, then fastened it around her face.

Yeah, the Weavers wanted her. But if Catra nabbed her, then maybe she could get  _ more _ coin.

She nodded as more lizards emerged from the forest. There were perhaps ten of the beasts now. The ones with arrows in them seemed unperturbed by the injuries, their hides having seemingly absorbed the worst of the damage. That was lizards for you - tough bastards. But they got tired quickly. So, best to use them to hit hard.

She spared a glance behind her. The battle had moved about twenty yards from the ambush site and that commander was still standing, rallying her last few soldiers together. Eight men and women, one with ox horns, some with green skin, in a ring around their wounded leader. Brave. Hoping for salvation. The rearguard wouldn’t get here in time, not if Tong Lashur’s troops had been this effective with them back there. Likely as not, the lizards were already stripping corpses for meat and valuables. Literally.

She slowed her advance to the pair ahead of her. Four reptiles stood around them, swords and spears levelled at the hacking, spluttering pair.

“Well, that was…. Interest, eh?” came Scorpia’s voice. She had sauntered up, halberd slung across her shoulders. Catra nodded slowly, then glanced sideways as Entrapta approached. Despite the fact the enemy wasn’t quite finished, she felt secure that they were at least  _ pinned _ .

“Entrapta, rope. Let’s truss these two up. Any way to…”

Her ear twitched and her eyes narrowed. Her head flicked to look up the road towards Thaymor.

Hoofbeats.

Heavy.

Cavalry? No, only one rider.

She squinted and the dust of an approaching rider, further up the road. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. One rider. That felt off. A scout? A messenger?

“Get those two bound.  _ Now _ . And…”

“She RA! SHE RA COMES! Praise the Light! THE HOPE OF LIGHT COMES! TO ARMS!”

Catra whipped around as the soldiers cried out in jubilation. And then, as if they were a troop thousands strong, they charged. The ring broke and the soldiers launched themselves as the lizards that had been harrying them. Entrapta’s fire traps that she’d scattered around the ring exploded but the soldiers pushed on, “For the Princess! For the Hope of Light! For Brightmoon!”

The commander was leading a pair of oxen-horned women in the charge. She’d retrieved her spear and came at full pelt. Behind her, her troops were duelling with the five lizards that had been harassing their turtled formation. Spear thrusts met bucklers and bronze blades met large round shields as they went back and forth.

That was background. Foreground were the three  _ bulls _ both literal and metaphorical, charging at them. Two lizards sprinted past Catra, with Scorpia likewise leaping into the fray.One lizardman lunged but the commander was shockingly faster. Sundar jinked and used her shield to deflect the blow from the reptile, then lunged and impaled the creature through the belly. It shrieked, tail flailing as it spasmed. She kicked it away and hauled her spear free. Behind her, Scorpia was in what looked like a quarter-staff battle with an ox woman, whilst the other lizard had skirted around the other soldier and was currently coiled around her like a lover. Teeth were sunk into an armoured shoulder and the Brightmoon soldier was wrestling with both of the lizard’s arms as it tried to plant a dagger into her clavicle, shield and spear forgotten.

Sundar glared at Catra, “How… dare you.  _ Weaver _ ….”

Catra spun her daggers and shrugged, “Nah, just getting good pay. Surrender and no one else needs to die.”

Sundar sneered and lunged. Catra leapt and landed on the spear itself. She ran up the length, her weight causing the weapon to dip sharly and her opponent to stumble in surprise. She then flipped back and her foot caught Sundar’s chin, which sent the woman reeling backwards. She darted to the woman’s right, spun and crouched, her arm moving behind her in a jab. She felt her blade hit meat as it sunk into the thick of the woman’s thigh. She spun to her left and kicked out hearing a satisfying crack as cartilage broke in the soldier’s knee.

The commander shrieked and collapsed to her side. She tried to drive the shield into the ground, but it clipped on the cobbles and she just fell atop it instead.

Catra wiped the blades on her bracers and kicked the woman’s spear away. With a flick she had both blades up. Then her eye flicked to her right and she saw the rider  _ arrive _ .

Or rather, she saw the rider plough into one of the lizardmen who was trying to subdue the archer bodyguard. The fool had drawn a knife and stabbed one of the things in the leg. And that was about to get him turned into so much stripped jerky meat.

Or it would’ve if the horse hadn’t smashed the reptile into the air with a spray of blood.

Because the horse had a  _ horn _ .

The creature had charged just off centre to the reptile and swung its head like a bull, goring the unfortunate mercenary. And the horse was  _ big _ . Dirty white, heavy hooves and shaggy hair and mane, it looked like it should have been hauling a brewers wagon. Steam rolled from its flanks as it rode the lizard down.

The beast rode one, momentum carrying it as the riders own weapon connected with another reptile, spinning the creature off with a nasty shoulder wound. Catra hissed and vaulted backwards as the rider pushed onward, smashing into the other lizards near the rearmost Brightmooners.

Catra spun and saw Scorpia had her own opponent downed and was yanking the halberd from the ox-woman’s arm, “Scorp! We gotta move!”

The big woman didn’t hesitate as she turned and ran towards Catra. Entrapta was occupied trying to subdue the Princess, when suddenly the pink hair girl  _ blinked _ away. Catra cursed but then blanched as the rider turned and charged back at  _ them _ . Scorpia turned and swung the halberd, which caused the horse to rear and kick at the air in front of it. The rider wasn’t thrown. Oh no.

They jumped.

The warrior came down, blade flashing down, forcing Scorpia to raise her halberd in a block. The impact drove the large, carapaced warrior nearly to her knees and she staggered back, giving Catra a proper view of their new assailant.

She wasn’t wearing the same armour as the Brightmooners. It was white-gold, dirty with road dust. It looked like hammered metal but no iron that Catra could recognise. Their face was obscured by some sort of full helm, with a gold relief crest and  _ wings _ on the side. A yellow plume stuck from the top of the helm and trailed down behind the warrior, cascading over a white cloak. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure it wasn’t some sort of golem.

It was as tall as Scorpia and the weapon it carried was as terrifying. A long length of  _ steel _ . She knew it was steel. Iron weapons tended to be more notched, or bent. This thing was some sort of long-sword with a large grip and seemed nearly as long as Scorpia’s halberd.

Catra glanced between this strange warrior and their quarry. The archer had staggered to the tree line and was duelling a lizard, quite successfully. She saw him duck behind a tree, then emerge on the other side, bow drawn.  _ A bow at close range? _ .

Then the arrow exploded and covered the reptile in some sort of resin. _ Oh great, they have an ENTRAPTA of their own _ .

She saw a puff of glitter in her peripheral and ducked. The Princess was suddenly  _ there _ , wielding a staff. Catra gasped in surprise. The girl was trying to attack  _ her? _ Did this kid not hav self preservation instincts?

“I won’t let you  _ win _ !”

Catra ducked another swipe easily and snorted, her face still covered by the impromptu rag. She deflected a swing of her opponents staff and lunged, only for the girl to vanish again. A crack across her shoulder blades told her where the girl had reappeared. Could be worse. Could’ve been her skull. She hissed in pain and dove forwards. Most opponents would have expected her to spin and attack and would have made her pay for it. The girl was no different and seemed unsure.

Which was why Catra was able to land a throwing knife into the Princesses leg.

The girl shrieked in pain and staggered.

“Glimmer!” came the cry from the Archer-boy. Catra turned and had to dive again as another trick arrow whizzed at her. She didn’t like this. This was why she hated open combat. Why couldn;t this girl have just been another stuck up, prissy noble? Why did she have some sort of engineer with her? And who the hell had six foot whatever  _ golems _ as cavalry?

Octavia was going to have a lot to answer for.

She saw Scorpia fighting. Saw her swing and deflect, trying to angle her blade over her opponents block. The sword was locked against the halberd haft. Then the enemy warrior twisted her sword and grabbed the blade in gauntlet clad hands hands. Now the pommel was facing Scorpia and the crossguard was hooked against the haft. The warrior yanked back and used Scorpia’s own pressure against her. The red-armoured Scorpion stumbled forwards and the gold-warrior jammed the pommel into the helm. The visor dented in and Catra could hear the crack of cartilage. Scorpia tumbled backwards but stayed upright.

Then the gold-warrior dropped and swept Scorpia’s leg. The movement was smooth, practiced. And  _ familiar. _

_ Remember, use your opponent's momentum against them. If you are forced into an open fight, you need to end it quickly and quietly. Dispatch your opponents by any means. Fairness means nothing. Only victory. _

The gold-warrior, still gripping the sword by the blade, raised it up, ready to plunge it down into Scorpia’s chest. Catra cried out a “ _ NO!” _ and sprinted towards the golem, Princess forgotten. She threw her dagger, not exactly a weapon designed for this, aiming for the joint of her opponent’s leg.

The warrior turned, fast and spun the sword like a quarter staff. The knife clattered away onto the cobbles, but Catra sped up, arm ducking into her armour, only to re-emerge to fling another fan of small blades forward.

The warrior spun the blade again, impossibly fast,  _ hauntingly fast _ .

_ The art of deflection, Neonates, is important both for infiltration and combat. A battle is won in the mind. To show yourself to be impervious to strikes both near and far? You foes will be forced to withdraw _

A lizard barrelled in from the warriors flank. They didn’t even look. The blade just shot out and crunched through the creature’s open mouth and out of the back of its skull. Catra slowed, both her blades out. The warrior stared out her, then flexed their grip on the blade. It twisted with the crack of bone and the lizard slumped to one side, then slid off the blade. The warrior adjusted the grip and flicked the weapon at the ground, sending a fine spray of gore onto the cobbles.

Scorpia struggled upright behind the warrior then saw Catra. Her tail jabbed forward and the warrior staggered forwards. Catra grinned for a moment but realised with horror that the enemy had just lurched out of the way of the strike. The golem-like fighter pivoted and swung and Scorpia howled in pain as the blade scorpion a deep gash along her tail.

Catra darted forwards in an attempt to skewered her opponent’s sword arm. But again the armoured warrior moved with a speed she didn’t expect. She spun around Catra, to her right and planted a metal elbow into her ribs. She sprawled onto the ground near Scorpia, who was trying to get upright, using the halberd as a crutch.

The warrior turned the blade raised to their shoulder, ready to thrust.

Then a firebomb rolled at their feet and exploded. The warrior gave a grunt of surprise and staggered back, seemingly unhurt. Catra looked over the sudden conflagration and sat Entrapta. The woman was still on her spider-stool., but the machine had extended its legs and she now sat six feet off the ground. Her hair was out at angles wielding various hammers and sharp tools, flailing at the Archer who was trying to get past her to the wounded Princess. Entrapta had a strange device out that looked like her repaired bellows, except, as she watched, the thing fired a net that the Archer neatly dodged. A gout of flame from one of Entrapta’s other gadgets kept the man moving.

Catra returned her attention to more  _ pressing _ matters. The warrior had been engaged by two more lizards. And with horror, she watched as the soldier deflected one with a twisting move that involved grabbing the sword  _ under your own arm _ . The warrior dragged their opponent around, staggering them, whilst swinging the huge blade in an arc that disembowelled the second lizard. She saw steaming entrail spill onto the cobbles as the reptile gurgled and collapsed. The locked lizard stumbled and fell. It tried to roll , to get away, but the warrior followed through its sword sweep smoothly and pinned the creature to the road like a butterfly. She watched the golden warrior grip the haft of the blade with both hands and  _ twist _ . The lizard squealed, bone cracked and the creature fell limp.

She glanced to the side. Scorpia was up, but in pain. Blood trickled from under the lip of her helm, “Go help Entrapta. I’ll try to distract tall, shiny and  _ fucking terrifying _ .”

They’d gone from nearly having the Princess to it being all in the balance. And where the  _ hell _ were the Weavers? Where were the rest of Tong Lashur’s men?

Catra pushed herself up and forward. The warrior was moving towards Entrapta, gaze seemingly fixed on the fallen Princess. This time, Catra was ready. She saw the side-thrust from her opponent and slid under it. She kicked at her opponent's leg.

It was like kicking a  _ wall _ . She hissed in pain and skidded to a halt. The giant paused and spun, sword at the wrong angle for a thrust. Instead it reached down and snatched at Catra’s bandoleer. With a yelp, Catra found herself hauled from the road and lifted into the air. She was flung away and landed awkwardly on the logs they’d rolled onto the road. She watched as the warrior charged in and sliced through one Entrapta’s spider-legs, like it was  _ nothing _ .

The inventor shrieked in alarm, but her machine kept going, reorienting its legs. She scuttled away and spray of resin splatted towards the warrior. The golem-like warrior ducked under the spray and thrust again, but Entrapta was able to scuttle back. Scorpia charged in from the side, but the warrior just gave a sudden side kick that winded her and sent her sprawling backwards. An arrow shot out and a net exploded, engulfing Scorpia,sending her to the ground. Catra panicked and hauled herself up again. She printed forwards, worried this  _ demon _ would skewered on of her fri-  _ companions _ .

She screamed as she ran.  _ No one else. No one else. I won’t lose anyone else _ . She realised she was shouting it as she ran.

Her attacked was clumsy. She leapt over the low swing as the warrior spun to take her and brought both blades down, point first, hoping to pierce  _ something. _ But the warrior moved under her, following the swing. Catra landed, then pushed off the ground and flipped backward. She spun in the air, arms stretched out, trying to hook on somehow.

The flat of the warriors blade caught her in her side and she was batted to the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of her. A gauntleted hand gripped her throat and she was hoisted into the air again. Her vision began to darken around the edges and she dropped her blades as she scrabbled at the armoured fist. She saw behind the warrior Entrapta blasting flames and launching bottles of noxious mixtures, arrows flying at her that exploded into gunk or flashes of light, or just thudded into trees around them. She saw the woman lower a grapple that hook Scorpia’s net and watched them withdraw into the forest.  _ They couldn’t save her. Best they escape. She;d saved them _ . And she felt… ok with that. 

Her eyes tracked back to the helm in front of her. She focused on the grill below the crest.

And froze.

Blue-grey eyes stared back at her. Eyes filled with  _ shock _ .

The voice, when it came, was muffled, “ _ Catra?” _

Her mind was a mess of confusion and sudden anger. How dare this… whatever it was? How did they know her?  _ HOW _ ?

The figure turned and looked back to where the Archer was hauling the Princess to her feet. The sounds of battle still sounded in the background. How much time had passed since this.. .thing had charged in to ruin their day?

The golem…. Was it a golem? Planted their sword in the road, where it stuck between cobbles. Then it brought Catra close and said a single word,  _ “Pretend. _ ”

The warrior hauled the blade from cobbles and suddenly pressed the flat of the blade to her throat. Catra’s eyes bulged as she felt the weapon slide quickly over the throat, albeit harmlessly. The point nicked her jaw, sending a flick of blood through the air. Then the warrior flung her, bodily, into the woodline, towards where Entrapta and Scorpia had fled to. She lay in the undergrowth, obscured, stunned, the sound of distant conversation in her ears.

“Get her on the Swiftwind And the Commander.We need to head for Thaymor. No knowing if there’s more. Don’t argue, Bow, just  _ go. Move.  _ I’ll help the others.”

“But the wounded Ado-”

“No, move. We can’t help the dead. The Princess is what matters, get her and Sundar there  _ now _ .”

The sound of feet moving at a jog, the whimpers of the wounded. More fighting. She saw the warrior vanish out of view to chase off the remaining lizardmen, though there seemed to only be one or two alive. The remaining soldiers were rallied and hauling their still-living comrades along on shields, following after the rapidly dwindling princess. That charger was  _ fast _ .

A rope landed near her and Catra glanced to one side to see Entrapta waving from the cover of a thick layer of undergrowth. The feline grasped the rope and was hauled back through the underbrush, into cover.

Entrapta helped her to her feet and they limped away from the ambush site. Scorpia was a few dozen yards further along, resting against a tree, free of the net. The trip moved further into the woods, away from the Thaymor. Once they were far enough they paused. Scorpia winced and looked at the gash in her tail, which oozed unpleasantly.

“What… what  _ was _ that?”

Catra looked at her hands and realised they were shaking. Entrapta frowned, “Some sort of machine, perhaps? A golem? A magical construct? The movements seemed abnormally fast and the reaction time was…”

“It was a ghost,” murmured Catra. She sagged against a tree and stared up. Her body shook as she took deep, staggered breaths, “A fucking  _ ghost _ .”


	7. A bitter pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories surface, the Weavers true colours begin to unfurl.

Catra could stop staring at her hands. There was blood matted into her fur, pooled into the grooves of her bracers and the fingerless gloves. Her ribs ached. But she couldn’t stop staring at her hands as she flexed her fingers. Scorpia’s voice, pained and worried, was distant, mumbling something along the lines of  _ “Everything ok Wildcat?” _

But she could see it in her mind. The flickering torches. The brown-grey stone of the windowless, arched corridors. The sandy floor. The distant hue and cry of battle. Adora.

_ “ADORA! We need to go!” _

_ “No, the others… they need our help!” _

_ “It’s… it’s dangerous.” _

_ “We can’t just let them fight. What’s the point! Come on Catra, you don’t run, why are you so…?” _

_ Catra knows why. This is real. This isn’t sparring. This could result in Ador-SOMEONE getting killed. _

_ But she goes with her friend, her only real friend, her bulwark against the cold nights, the merciless stares of the Sisters and the cold silence of the Brothers. They sprint through corridors towards the sound of clashing metal and muffled battlecries. They burst into a courtyard near the west wall, where a gaping hole has been blasted into the Monastery. _

_ Men and women in silver cloaks and locked in brutal combat. A Brother stands, black armour like ink in water. It moves like death, Weaving a tapestry of pain with the double glaive it wields. Until a bolt of energy cuts it in twain from a robed figure atop the rubble. _

_ Neonates are fighting, bravely, foolishly. The interlopers wield cudgels and short swords, with small shields to deflect blows from quarter staves and knives. There are a lot of invaders. A mish mash of ragged fanatics and the silver-cloaked soldiers. Some sort of local revolt? A rival clan? Or something else. _

_ Catra saw Rojelio leap onto a man’s back and bite into their throat. Kyle was holding his own against two men using his quarterstaff. Lonnie she couldn’t see. Others were doing what they could. Their movements fluid, albeit not as polished as the odd Initiate or Champion she could see. _

_ And then Adora scooped up a blade and charged. Catra shouted, she ran she…. _

She shook her head to dislodge the memory, the crash of thoughts that would come at picking at that scab. The images that would flicker past mere moments after Adora wended her way into the fray.

Her mind was a maelstrom of confused emotion.  _ But she was dead? _ Clearly false.  _ I saw her die.  _ No. Saw her  _ fall _ .  _ Where has she been? _ Why didn’t she  _ come back? _

Her fists clenched and she inhaled a ragged breath. Her thoughts crystalised and marshalled, the hated lessons of the Weavers, so carefully drilled in from childhood, racking her mind.  _ Distraction. Motivation. Confusion. There is no time for this. Rationality comes with time, with order and duty. Follow the thread to find the tapestry _ .

Adora being alive was a snag, much as she hated the metaphor. It was confusing.  _ It hurt _ in a way she was not used to feeling. She thought she felt happy but there was something else there. Unanswered questions that left bile in her. But right now she had  _ immediate _ priorities. Injured friends. The Weavers. The gold.

She was surprised at the order she put all that in.

Her view flicked to Scorpia and she blinked. Entrpata was applying a grey looking salve to the wound on the warrior woman’s tail, whilst her tendril hair clutched notebook and quill in it’s unnerving grasp. She muttered as she applied the tincture, smoothing it with surprising care.

“Wound appears to be a clean laceration inflicted by a  _ steel _ weapon. Note that steel is incredibly difficult to forge and temper into useful weaponry of that magnitude, indicating a worry level of resource investment and technology for a singular sword. The wound is one inch deep at the impact point and a quarter of an inch at the laceration taper. Considering my observations of other assaults performed by the subject termed  _ She Ra _ , the intent seems to have actually been to sever the tail completely…”

Scorpia blanched and Catra stood sharply, “Enough, Entrapta… you’re freaking her out…”

Entrapta looked at Scorpia and blinked, “Oh. Of course. Increased stress response to a near fatal combat experience appears to have rendered my ability to be socially tactful  _ moot _ . Note, this is an interesting topic to discuss with apothecaries in the next village, to see if they have an understanding of battlefield trauma on combatant personality…”

The woman finished applying the salve and turned away, only to spin back and bind a large linen wrap around the wound. She nodded, then scuttled back to her pile of supplies. Catra noted she wasn’t atop her mechanical steed and after a moment she saw the thing lying off to one side, missing a limb. It had folded its legs back in to become more squat once more, but for all the world it looked like a wounded animal licking its wounds.

Except it was inert, still and not even exuding steam. It creeped Catra out.

Instead she turned to Scorpia, “You did well today…. Uh, sorry about… the tail.”

The bigger woman smiled bravely, “Hey, comes with the territory. As my father says, don’t like the blood get out of the arena!”

Catra frowned. That was, perhaps, the forest time Scorp had mentioned her parents in a whole year, “Yeah… you never said what your family did.”

Scorpia blinked, clearly a little bit addled, “Oh uh well, nothing big, just me out to make my name, y’know! They’re um, big into land. Farming. Acquisitions. That sort of thing.”

Catra snorted and rubbed her hand over an upper arm, “Yeah ok, sorry, getting distracted. We need to take stock. Regroup. Find Octavia… then work out… work out…”

And she was spiralling again. She tightened her grip on her arm and then flinched as Scorpia laid a claw gently on her shoulder.

“Catra… what  _ was _ that?”

The feline blinked and stared, “What was… what was what? It was, it was a…”

“A ghost, yeah. But I’ve seen ghosts. They’re, well, yeah they’re scary. Do weird things. But, um, they don’t tend to utterly butcher their way through hardened lizards and tank  _ me _ in three hits.”

Catra blinked, “I think it was four.”

Scorpia shrugged and winced. Devoid of her helmet and now Catra was settling emotionally, she also noticed the nasty bruise around Scorpia’s eye and the slight crook in her nose. The helmet itself was slung on the side of Scorpia’s pouch and the visor had a clear intend in it. That was some strike. Catra winced and Scorpia chuckled.

“Yeah had worse… but that one was a right bonk on the noggin. So, uh… Catra?”

She couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes. Not because of anything she didn’t want to say, but because she was afraid of what would come out if she saw the worry in that kind gaze, “It was…. Something I thought had died a while back.  _ She _ was something that died a while back. Or didn’t. Or was taken. I don’t know.”

She finally met Scorpia’s eyes and the big woman nodded slowly. Then she gave a faint smile, “So. Want to find out?”

Catra blinked and frowned, “Uh.. um… what?”

Scorpia shrugged, “The Weaver pay will tide us over… gives us some freedom. Maybe worth… looking into?”

She frowned at the Scorpion woman, “And… why would you want to do that?” she asked slowly. Scorpia snorted.

“Friends help. Plus… I don’t think I’m exactly in a great shape to go into a majorly demanding job right now. So, maybe some talking, some thinking… might help?”

Catra shook her head slowly, mostly out of bewilderment, “I mean, maybe? But where do we start? No, scratch that. First things first… Weavers, gold. Then we decide if it’s worth it.”

Scorpia grinned happily, “We?”

She sighed and gave a half hearted grin of her own, pushing down the bile and worry in her gut, “Yeah, idiot. We. You… you did good Scorp. We got our asses kicked but we  _ nearly _ had them.”

“Until tall, golden and ripped did.. .whatever they did.”

“Yeah… got a few questions about all this. How… how’re you doing?”

“Tail stings - and not in the usual way, huh, kinda funny… oh and my face stings, ribs sting. So, all good! What’s life without a bit of pain, helps you know you’re alive!” she grinned but it was a bit pained.

“Yeah don’t do that whole… thing with your face,” Catra shook her head, mouth a line. She exhaled and patted her own armour down. Her kit bag was gone, stashed on the other side of the wood than they were now, near the ambush site,. No point trekking back to get it. The road was  _ probably _ clear, but she would bet the Brightmooners would do some sort of cursory sweep to ensure the road was clear. Never looked good for a ruler to not answer a  _ flagrant _ assault on their authority.

They might even burn the woods down. Or at least, that’s what some of the Scorpion barons would do. They tended to  _ vent _ in her experience. Brightmoon she wasn’t so sure. Hunker down in Thaymor? Send a battalion to clear the woodland? Who knew. Either way, they needed to get to their original camp, see if the Weavers were there and, if not, withdraw back to the tavern in Scorpion Hill.

And get their fucking gold. They’d earned it.

Her armour was in good shape, a few nicks and scratches, but since it was light it wasn’t meant to stop a direct hit. That’s what her fast feet were for. No, it was more made to turn a blow that got too close. One of those spears aimed well would have skewered her. An arrow would have potentially gone right through, even the padded cotton underneath. But it hadn’t been damaged.

Her knives were another story. Her throwing arsenal was all but gone and she’d lost one of her duelling blades somewhere, probably when  _ Adora _ had easily pinned her. That stung in a whole different way - they’d been fairly evenly matched in their youth and now Adora was, what?

A golem like monster?

That didn’t feel right to think. There was something else there. She’d acted  _ in charge _ after the fight. There was more here. But that could be looked at later. Right now: moving.

The trio packed up and made their way back to their original campsite. They made good time, as the evening sun set and the moon rose. The woods were fairly clear and easy to navigate now they knew the way. So, finding the camp wasn’t hard. They made their way stealthily, careful to approach the perimeter cautiously, even with Entrapta’s muttering and journal scribblings. She somehow managed it whilst her little spider-chair limped after her, her hair acting like legs instead. Scorpia made good time, but seemed to be leaning on her Halberd a little bit more than expected.

They skirted along the edge of the cart track, keeping in the under brush as much as they could. Finally they reached the edge of the encampment. And froze.

Tong Lashur had clearly withdrawn as well, with what was left of his band. And what was left of his band was very  _ clearly _ dead. And they’d clearly died  _ in  _ the camp.

It  _ looked _ like they’d butchered each other. Like a disagreement had sprung forth. Whoever found this lot would report it… after the requisite looting of course.

Tong Lashur himself was… not in a good way. He was impaled to a tree, head sunken over his broad chest. His green scales seemed duller. Catra stalked closer and sniffed.

“He isn’t dead.”

Scorpia froze and leveled her halberd. She and Entrapta had been picking their way between corpses. Entrapta appeared to be in the process of already taking  _ samples _ . It made Catra’s gorge move a little. That being said, they were probably going to strip the bodies of anything useful  _ anyway _ . Because this did not bode well.

Scorpia voiced the unspoken question, “Who did this?” she murmured.

“Well… we’re meant to think it’s a fight. Look at the weapons, the stab mounds. Some of these guys  _ did _ kill each other.”

“What?”

Catra squatted in front of Tong Lashur, “Lizards have a weird freaky body clock. They have to keep their heat levels regular. Hence that basking. But they also have that hair trigger temper. They get real territorial at younger ages. Older ones rule the roost and they keep freakin’ growing.  _ Never _ visit the Dread Swamps if you can avoid it.”

Scorpia stared at her, “How… how’d you know that?”

“Training. The odd bit of work before all… this freelance stuff. Know the things you have to kill. And for example, you have to ensure you don’t stab a lizard in a  _ redundant _ part of the body.”

Tong Lashur’s head rose and he hissed a bubbling chuckle, “The tiny cat isss… clever.”

Catra didn’t flinch but Scorpia backed away with an expression that said  _ what _ . Catra just nodded slowly, “I’m guessing… Octavia?”

The reptile turned its Komodo-head to one side and a tongue flicked out thoughtfully. There was still pain in the movement and a fresh trickle of blood began to run down from where where of the spears pierced his chest, “Correct…. Are you here to clean up her messs?”

Catra shrugged, “If I was, would I be talking to you?”

“Good point. You intend to strip my dead?”

“Why not. You’re probably going to eat them.”

Tong lashur laughed, a harsh rasping sound, “Yesss. Though I fear the meat issss… spoiled. As mine isss.”

Catra eyed the wounds and nodded slowly, “Weaver poisons. Killing you slowly.”

“No, just hurting me. Body healsss as the wounds decay. Endless.”

“Did she leave you alive? What, so Brightmoon could do it?”

“No… ssshe thought me dead.”

Catra _tsked_ , “Sloppy. Always was.”

The lizard tried a shrug, “So, what now?”

Catra cocked her head. Then she turned to Entrapta, “Hey, gadgetgirl. How d’ya fancy trying some surgery?”

_ “WOOOULD I?!” _

She turned back to the lizard, “And how d’you feel about getting that gold you're owed?”

Tong Lashur grinned through blood stained fangs, “Pleassssure.”


	8. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dues to the dead. Memories sifted, recounted and mourned.

Whilst Entrapta worked, Catra and Scorpia set about rooting through what was left of the camp. Catra requisitioned an abandoned pack to replace her lost one and decided to pocket a pair of nasty looking curved blades from one of the gutted reptiles. The armour they ignored - for one, the reptiles tended to favour pauldrons or gut-belts, meaning their getup was a mishmash of leather and hide straps; second, the price they’d get at brokers or pedlars on the road would be paltry for the time spent lugging what was, essentially, leather scraps that were already boiled and treated.

The paltry coins they found they pocketed, though that did garner a distant rumbling hiss from Tong Lashur. Catra just cocked her head at him, “Consider it payment for services rendered, scaly.”

His retort was cut short by a humming Entrapta who cut his wound open further, to extract the spear shaft, “Oooo a rapidly clotting agent separate from the blood. Contrary to alchemical texts, this is not bile, nor some sort of irregularity in the bloods….”

Catra tuned it out and rooted through some more packs, hoiking what few supplies were left - dried meats, the odd salve, herbs. She found bone charms and strange shell-fragments. Eggshells, she realised. A louder rumble from Tong lashur stopped her there.

“Do… not…..”

She looked at the fragment in her hand, then back at the reptile. He didn’t seem angry. Just distressed. Slowly, she replaced the shell piece back into the pack and the lizard subsided. The other charms she ignored, only pocketing the odd gem here and there. Not much, but baubles could get you a warm bed or a bowl of stew in a pinch if you hadn't the coppers to hand.

Scorpia had a small stash, having taken all the decent iron and bronze blades she could find. She had them laid out on her sleeping fur, which she then rolled up and bound with twine, making for an effective carry-case. It also hid the weapons nicely.

Catra nodded her approval then went back to the reptile. The change was dramatic - Entrapta had broken the spear hafts then slid the lizard from them rather than yanking them free. He was now slumped against another part of the tree, still as the grave. Entrapta hummed as she worked, coating the wounds with a thick mixture of grey and amber gunk. Catra wrinkled her nose at the smell, “What in the Shade is that?”

“Oh, Willow extracts, some copper and iron extracts, a few bits of natural sap fro some samples… it’s a binding agent. The real good stuff is going in next.. MAGGOTS!”

Catra blanched, “I’m… I’m gonna.”   
  
“They’ll eat the rotten flesh, clean the wound and then burrow free! Also, the breed I use has a natural ability to soak up and take toxins from its environment.”

“Why… why would  _ anything _ do that?”   
  
“I DON’T KNOW! Isn’t it fascinating? Found them on our jaunt through the Crimson Waste. I think it may have something to do with the stagnant pools. Natural filtration that they then use to make themselves inedible. Or could be magic. Note to journal, find out if the maggots are  _ magic _ .”

Catra face palmed and dragged it down to her chin, ”Will he live?”

“Oh yes. His natural body cycle is pushing him to rest, but he needs warmth. My treatment has stabilised his recovery and should have the toxins removed. The wounds should also not rupture anytime soon. Hence the adhesive!”

“And you’re sure those maggots will… get out?”

“Oh yes. Mainly because I will remove them when we change the dressing. I;m not putting them  _ under _ the clue, oh no. Counter productive.”

Catra nodded weakly. Scorpia wandered over and grinned, “Oh! The health maggoty things! Aren’t they great Catra? We use them in the ar- I mean the army uses them. Back in Scorpion hill. Great for cleaning up those uh, war wounds.”

The carapaced woman blushed as Catra shot her another side look, but her follow up was interrupted by Tong Lashur’s grunt. His large head rose and slitted eyes blinked, “I feel… pain. But good pain.”

Catra arched an eyebrow, “Pain is good?”

“Pain is  _ life _ . Feeling pain means you continue. To not feel is to be  _ dead _ . Meat for consumption. Pain means blood flows and you are  _ hunter _ of weaker meat.”

“How poetic.”

Tong Lashur gave a shrug, then winced, “Is reality. Great scales of the Swamps know this. Largest feel nothing, become dead. Or as near as makes no difference. Become  _ death _ to others.”

His gaze tracked to his fallen brethren, so few in number now, their muted number obscured by the underbrush. With grating breaths, the reptile stood. He was a head taller than even Scorpia as he stretched to his full height, but then stooped into a hunch that brought him more to the Scorpion’s level. Catra watched as the creature moved purposefully to one of the corpses. A dagger was plucked from his belt and he set to carving at the body.

Entrapta cooed with interest and Scorpia winced. Catra gave a faint shudder. The lizard habit of eating the dead was… unsettling. She’d seen it in action after her execution of a warband leader in the Crimson wastes, one of her jobs for the Weavers. She hazarded that it was meant to keep the reptiles unstable - a leader's death meant dominance rituals and infighting. And the guy had led a  _ really _ big band. A threat even to Brightmoon.

But the rationale for  _ why _ wasn’t her concern. Just doing the job. And, ultimately, that’s what had driven her away. That and… other things.

But she’d seen what had happened after her poisons had failed, her darts had no effect and eventually she’d had to resort to a thin dagger, a drop from a rafter and a stab to the top of the creature’s skull.

She’d been attacked, but had gotten clear. And then the lizards had just  _ swarmed _ the body. Torn it apart. It wasn’t treachery… not with how they’d acted. It was freakily reverential. As if they were taking something of him  _ into _ themselves.

And then she’d left as fast as possible, because the challenges had started and things had gotten  _ nasty. _

She shuddered at the memory, her slipping out, away from the burning tents, the shrill hisses of combatants suddenly trying to climb a hierarchical ladder that had been shattered. Ash, smoke, the stench of stagnant water from the pools the lizards made in every one of their war encampments.

Tong Lashur was careful, methodical, almost gentle. He moved over the body, carving a sliver of meat from their limbs, placing each strip onto the forest floor.

Then he drew the blade high and plunged it into the sternum of the corpse. There was a horrible crack and the sound of rupturing bone. He thrust a hand into the cadaver and  _ pulled _ . There was a hideous, wet noise. The three women watched, stunned and (in Entrapta’s case) fascinated. The reptile held the heart of his former bandsman above him and  _ squeezed _ . The blood ran down his arm but also pulse in wet spurts onto his sinuous tongue.

Then he moved fast and the whole thing vanished into his maw. There were several squishy mulching noises and the reptile swallowed.

He moved from corpse to corpse, repeating the ritual, keeping the strips of carved meat separate, but always devouring the heart. The trio watched, rooted to the spot. It felt barbaric but also that they  _ needed _ to witness this. Catra had a perverse sense of  _ respect _ . This was far removed from the carnage she’d seen in that warcamp. No frenzy, just calm movements and precise ceremony.

After the last heart had been consumed, Tong Lashur stood and clumped over to them. He retrieved his scimitar, where it had fallen among the brambles, then fished a buckler from a corpse. Catra noticed he wasn’t as gentle with the bodies.

“Do we need to bury them?” murmured Scorpia. Tong Lashur looked at the bodies.

“They are husks. Carrion meat. Ruined. What is of value has been consumed, their strength lives in me. Leave them.”

They set out, looking to distance themselves from the charnel-house that had been their former camp. One wagon remained but its wheels had been broken. The other was missing. Along with the horses. Catra sighed.

“Guess we’re walkin’.”

They made good time, having to cut north around Thaymor. The woods were a necessary route, due to the sudden increase in patrols. Catra had expected that - you don’t rattle a royal dynasty and not expect  _ consequences _ . Of course that likely meant the Weavers were having to be stealthy also. And Catra wasn’t sure if the Weavers had succeeded or not. Interdicted the Princess? Catra had managed to wing her with a dagger, which meant the paralysis venom would’ve kicked in. But that archer had been mobile.

And Adora had been  _ very _ mobile. Replaying her movements back in her mind's eye, Catra could see that time had not dulled her former friend’s abilities. If anything, she was far more formidable. A glance to the side where Scorpia moved with only the faintest limp and wince confirmed that. She’d seen the tall woman absolutely  _ devastate _ whole groups of warriors. And she’d been bested in moments by someone so fast…

Entrapta’s machine had barely got an edge in beyond distraction once Adora, or She Ra or whatever she was now, had entered the fray.

And Catra… well that  _ burned _ . She’d not lost a fight in three years.  _ Three years _ . And even as Neonates, she and Adora had had somewhat of an equal footing. So what had changed? And what did it mean for her?

_ Because we could go back to, what? Being friends? Allies? For what cause? Get her to join your band? She’s a Brightmoon lackey now. Some cushy role, a bodyguard role. _

But that also nagged. Adora had had fairly strong views about the royals. It was why she stuck with the Weavers, why she’d  _ believed _ in them - a force for balance, for keeping the various rulers in check. Obviously the Weavers went deeper than that, Catra had seen that. Adora just saw the  _ idea _ of it, rather than the brutal reality.

Which meant the Hopers had not killed her but taken her. Changed her maybe?

But then Adora hadn’t killed her. So, was it magic? Or just some cult? How had she gone from Hoper capture to Brightmoon  _ juggernaut _ ?

“Copper for your thoughts?”

Catra looked at Scorpia’s concerned face, “Ah, just... just thinking what we’re gonna have to do to get our gold.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Scorpia nodded and smiled, seemingly oblivious, “Think Octavia ever planned to pay?”

Catra shook her head, “Nah… I think… I think even we were supposed to die. We were supposed to buy time and delay. Then they could swoop in. Except I bet they didn’t as soon as… She Ra turned up.”

“Uh huh, uh huh… that ghost of yours.”

Tong Lashur lolled his head at them. Scorpia had lent her halberd to him as an impromptu crutch. As they walked he seemed to be leaning on it less and less. A good sign, “I did not witness the Golem. You say it is ghost? Magic?”

Despite their current situation, Catra didn’t quite trust the reptile with her deepest darkest, “Yeah, something familiar about it. Something I heard of… from the Weavers. That sorta thing,” the lie came easy, a deflection. Scorpia frowned faintly but didn’t push. There’d be time later. Entrapta meanwhile had her face in the map and looked up.

“We’re ten miles from Scorpion Hill, just beyond the scrub copse, then we’ll hit the rocky crevasse that’ll take us into the scrubland. I suggest camp, food and consider our options.”

Catra chafed a bit - there was a chance the Weavers would be long gone. Even if they bothered going back to the tavern. Considering they’d butchered their immediate support she initially thought it unlikely. But then her brain clicked and she remembered that the mercs had only had half pay - they’d be going back to collect.

And if the Weavers wanted to make triple sure their little assault was super secret, then they’d be setting an ambush for returning mercs.

Why hunt down loose ends when you know they’ll walk right in?

She felt her hackles relax faintly, “Yeah camping seems like… a plan.”

Tong Lashur nodded, “In the lee of the rocks. In the crevasse. Shelter, easier to watch approaches. Away from paths. And the elements.”

She had been about to argue for the small copses but realised they were fairly obvious. So she just nodded.

That evening they settled in a small indent against the wall of a shallow canyon. Tong Lashur produced one of the strange, glowing rocks from his pack and set it down with care, then muttered something in his hissing language and traced a claw over the rock. It began to glow and the reptile slumped, his breathing slowing to appear as if dead. Entrapta fussed over him, moving bandages and placing maggots into open wounds that she then retied with linen. Catra unfurled her blanket and pulled some strips of dried meat from her own pack. She’d been sure to check that they weren’t  _ reptilian _ as she had retrieved them from one of Tong Lashur’s band. He had assured her they were not from anything  _ intelligent _ .

That had not reassured her as the lizards had a very different view on what constituted  _ intelligent  _ anyway. But it was food and, frankly, she had probably eaten worse without realising it. That was what Weaver training did to your sense of taste after all… abandoned in some hideous desert at 11 and forced to survive. You learned not to be picky.

Considering how Tong Lashur had carefully consumed each strip of meat on their walk, muttering what sounded like a prayer each time he gently placed each strip into his mouth, she was reassured her own ration wasn’t some religious meal-token or whatever.

There was a  _ thump _ as Scorpia settled next to her and offered more blanket. Catra grunted and sidled closer, letting the larger woman encircle her in warmth. They sat in silence, chewing their rations in relative calm. Then Scorpia spoke.

“So, you gonna tell me?”

Catra stiffened then grunted again as she forced herself to relax, “What’s to tell, Scorp? Face from the past, caught me off guard.”

Scorpia chuckled, “Having someone like that in your past isn’t a big thing? Catra, i’ve seen stampedes or Oxyn barbarians do less damage than that metal-man.”

“Wasn’t a man.”

Scorpia arched an eyebrow, “An oxwoman? Bit small but…”

“Nope. Blonde, human, blue-grey eyes. And she should be dead,” that last came out with a bit of bite, which surprised Catra.  Scorpia stared at her a little longer, “Not really… comfortable...”

“And what if we run into her again?”

That was the question she wasn’t willing to wager their gold on. Scorpia was being calm but, running back over the fight, the woman did have a right to know something. Adora had been about two steps from  _ skewering _ her companion. And had pretty much gutted a good chunk of Tong Lashur’s men. What if she hadn’t recognised Catra at that moment? She was a foe. But was she a friend as well? Was it just a circumstantial fight? Or would the next meeting be fatal to one or the other?

She looked at Scorpia. Underneath that smiling face she could see the hard stare of someone who wasn’t going to let this go. Catra managed a weak half grin.

“So, I guess…. I guess I better start from the beginning…”

\-------

_ The Weavers were not kind. They were not gentle. But they were consistent.  _

_ Routine. Tradition. Structure. _

_ Rules were set, they were feasible. Life was hard but it was a life. Left as foundlings, or donated by parents with no choice, or just found lurking in the gutters of one of Etheria’s many backstreets, many came to the hallowed corridors of the Weaver monastery. Not many survived the various steps up the ladder to Ascension, but few left. _

_ Adora had been found as a babe, abandoned near a burnt field. Broken weapons and shattered spears littered the ground, unfamiliar armour and skeletal remains leaving only a mystery to her origins. _

_ Catra, on the other hand, was a donation. From what she’d gleaned, her family were avid believers in the Shadow and tithed children each generation. She was the “lucky” one. _

_ And so they’d grown up under the strict view of the masked Sisters. Every day the same with simple meals and lessons in literacy, physical adeptness and rudimentary understanding of the world. Then they’d moved up, their trials increasing as they aged. Obstacle courses, melee combat, advanced skills in herbology and toxins. _

_ She remembered their first corpse, laid out in a cool cellar. They were eleven. Kyle had thrown up as a Brother had sliced the body open and began to carefully remove organs, whilst a Sister recited the most effective methods for disabling them. They’d watched as the Brother had carefully cut the skin form the arm and unthreaded the muscles like some hideous lute. _

_ The Sister had approached and traced runes onto each organ. A foul vapour had consumed the air and each fleshy mass pulsed. The Sister had then applied various concoctions via small vials to each organ and they had watched them shrivel or burst, their crude mockery of life suspended one more. _

_ As they had left, Catra had sworn she heard the hollowed-out corpse whimper. _

_ At thirteen they had been woken suddenly, bound and gagged, then left alone in the wilderness to survive. To make their way back. Five our their number died… or found worse fates. _

_ Catra had sprained her ankle. But Adora found her. Adora carried her back. _

_ It had earned the blond a beating. That if Catra had not had the strength herself, then she should have died. But Adora argued that a tool should not be discarded out of hand. A broken sword could still kill in the midst of a fight. And it could be reshaped. Catra had been hurt and also flushed at the same time. _

_ They were thrown into an arena at fourteen, to kill their first opponent. Catra did it in seven minutes - her foe had been an Oxman, resilient. And all she’d had was a blunt staff. He went down with shattered knees and a splintered spine. _

_ Adora refused to kill her opponent, but had ended up reducing him to little more than a vegetable, as he wouldn't _ stop . _They'd found out later that their only possibility for escape was to kill the young Weavers._ _ A Brother had entered the sandy area and slit the man's throat, whilst staring at Adora. She had been held by a Sister and forced to watch. The lesson was clear - you didn't get to look away. You failed, someone else carried the burden, the duty. _

_ The doctrine was clear - the deaths were for the honour of the Shadow. The Shadow was not evil. The Shadow was where evil tried to hide and good lay forgotten. Their duty was to balance. To respond to the world and ensure deaths had meaning, to ensure that chaos was an ironic constant and a check to prevent stagnation. Thus they wove the pattern of balance between powers of the world. Death was the great equaliser. Knowledge the currency of authority. _

_ So they were told. _

_ In the cold of night, they had curled up on sleep mats and talked in hushed tones about the future, about the adventures they would have beyond the Monastery. They would serve the Shadow, send tithes to the Monastery, kill if needed. But they would see the world, learn all they could. Live free of dank halls and dreary meals. And Adora had begun to believe they were doing something greater. _

_ They’d snuck around at night and played pranks. The other Neonates had been their family and they had helped one another, covered for each other. The Sisters had noticed, tried to break it apart, to encourage solitude, overt self reliance. It never stuck longer than a few days. Be it helping Rojelio with his shedding, or Kyle with his balance. Or when they’d smuggled food to Squall when he’d been isolated in the lone-pit. _

_ It had been hard, brutal. They’d lost many. And whilst Catra had hardened herself to that, she’d not been able to ignore Adora. Because Adora was always there. Sometimes it irked, like the girl didn’t think Catra could handle anything. They fought as much as they laughed. But at the end, they always sat and reconnected, reforging that bond no matter how much it was tested. _

_ They were expected to advance to Initiate. They were eighteen. The Trials had begun, testing their mettle against others in their cohort. The bouts were brutal, meant to show an utter disregard for loyalty - there might come a time when you had to turn a blade on a friend who was no longer loyal to the cause. Or if they fell to unknown powers. Or if the Weave demanded their death. _

_ Rojelio had fought Kyle. Their battle had lasted nearly an hour, neither really taking a clear advantage. Until Lonnie heard a Sister order a Brother to kill one of them. She had somehow managed to warn Rojelio. That earned her the ire of a Sister and nullification of her right to the Trial. But Rojelio had darted in and shattered Kyle's arm in their bout, which had removed him from the Trial. But also saved both their lives. _

_ Catra had been against Octavia. And had taken her eye. _

_ Adora had meant to attend her trial the next day… but then…. _

“They killed her.”

Scorpia sat in silence then coughed. Her eyes were damp with unshed tears, “Oh Wildcat… it… it sounded awful…”

Catra shrugged, “I could’ve been an alley cat. Stuck in some thatched bar in Elberon, selling my… body for tuppence a trip. This way… this way I have skills that don’t require me to just….” she clenched her fists and sighed, “You get it.”

“So… The Weavers killed her? How is she… y’know?”

“Not the Weavers.... Hopers... the Light of Hope cultists, y'know? And fuck knows how she's... alive. I swear… I swear I saw them… they…” Catra couldn’t speak again. Adora’s laugh the day before, her exhilaration at Catra passing her trial. The flush of her cheeks. The way she  _ breathed _ . Someone who looked at Catra and took  _ joy _ in what she did.  Scorpia did as well, but it was like listening to music underwater, compared to the presence of Adora. Or was that time and memory playing tricks?

_ It hadn’t mattered: she’d watched Adora charge, watched her hack down two men in a pirouette so graceful that it seemed the world stopped to watch. She’d seen her snap an invader’s arm in a very unpleasant way, then duck a blow from man in filthy rags to stab him in the armpit. That’d been when Catra had joined the fray. She’d eschewed a weapon and let her claws make the statement. Men and women had fallen , screeching in pain as she sliced open soft flesh and twisted limbs to snapping point. _

_ They’d pushed back the interlopers until a fresh wave of armoured foes had breached the wall. The world had rippled as the mage did something. They’d fallen back, their mind’s reeling and nauseous from the oily feel of magic. The world had appeared inverted. But Adora had advanced, seemingly unaffected. _

_ She’d seen the mage baulk, right before Adora stabbed him in the leg. _

_ The man’s wail had knocked her back. Unstable energy had blasted her off the rubble. Then she’d watched as a pile of men had landed atop her friend. She’d seen cudgels and blades rise and fall. Her vision had swum and she’d charged. Her pain channeled into a wail that caused men to shrink back. She’d clawed and fought, but arms had grabbed her, hauled her back. Rojelio bundled her away as a trio of Brothers backed by more Champions entered the fray and drove the invaders out. _

_ Later, after the casualties were counted (For the Sisters did treat the wounded. Just not if they fell outside the Monastery it seemed) they’d been forced to rebuild the wall and clear the bodies. But Adora was gone. They hadn’t been sure if the enemy had retrieved more of their dead, but some remained. _

_ That night, alone, Catra had openly wept for the first time in ten years. And it had also been the last. _

Until now.


	9. Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Portents and dreams, with a dose of lizard philosophy.
> 
> A double cross turns triple.

_Green. Oily green. Shadows that were made form, then shifted, like slick atop water. Except it moved_ up _and_ down _. All around. Words came, unspoken. Unheard. A silvery blade plunged into the dark and oil slid away. Light came, but it was blinding. Harsh. Uncaring. A face morphed from the light, familiar and lost. Tears streamed from its eyes, red tears. The light became separate from the face, like a mask, cloying to the shape beneath. Light and Shadow played across it, masking it, obscuring it. It sank below the oily light, the oily dark._

Catra jolted up, her whole body shuddering as the bizarre dream faded away. Dawn’s light was creepy across the rocks, grey and unwelcome. Her sleep fur was wrapped tightly around her but seemed to offer no warmth against the sense of _wrong_ that permeated her. She swallowed, felt the bile in her gorge. She pushed it down and breathed in and out, slowly. Her stuttered breathing levelled out and she closed her eyes, visualising the meditation process of the Monastery. The preparation mantras, the slow oiling of a blade, the slow scrape of a whetstone. The drip, drip, drip. Of oils and liquids into vials and bottles. Rhythmic. Calming.

She opened her eyes again and found Tong Lashur’s baleful yellow gaze fixed on her. She squinted and the reptile slithered into an upright position, “Your rest. Not peaceful.”

It wasn’t a question. She gave a shrug, “Bad dreams,”

“Fearful minds. Regretful minds. These do not rest.”

She frowned, “Not afraid. And no regrets.”

He cocked his head, the dewlap below his head wobbling slightly with the movement, “No? Your words say else. Your sleep talk. A name? Or a place? I thought Weavers expunged all,” the words weren’t harsh. Just direct. Catra still bridled.

“And what would you know about regret?” she bit at him. Tong Lashur shrugged.

“Nothing. Lizards do not regret. Move forward. Past is dead. Only future. Only life. Cannot change what is dead.”

Her frown deepened, “So, what, you just forget?”

Again he shook his head, “No.We take. We eat. We remembered what they were, not what they could have been. We who live are what could be. We learn. But we do not _regret_ . We do not _fear_.”

She shook her head, “How can you… not be afraid? How do you survive? I mean… I get that the swamps are _dangerous_ … but surely that should mean you’re scared all the time.”

“Eat a meal forever, it lose its flavour, no? We start with fear. We learn not to. Fear holds back. Fear _prevents._ Fear _clouds_ . Regret is chains. Pain is important. Pain teaches. Fear avoids pain. The fearful do not _learn_ ,” he leaned forward, the colour of the scales of his neck flecked yellow. Catra noticed some of his scales seemed to shift, ever so slightly, between colours, “You have learned. But fear still clouds the lesson.”

She snorted, “Who made you the wise hermit?”

“When shaman die, my role now…” and that was true. The little white-daubed lizard had been dead too. Catra felt a momentary spike of shame, then shrugged..

“Ok. Not afraid though. And… fine… regrets. But, as you said, nothin’ I can do now. Our focus should be on the Weavers, surviving the meetings and getting the gold we’re owed.”

“I will roast Octavia’s heart… then discard it. She is unworthy of memory,” again, said matter of factly. Catra shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.

“If that’s what gets you… y’know.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a groan from Scorpia. She struggled upright and Catra winced in sympathy. The bruise around the woman’s eyes was darker now and dried blood caked the Scorpion woman’s upper lip. She made a noise like a blocked river, then turned away. There was a muffled crackle of cartilage and Catra had to turn away herself. Her ears flattened as Scorpia hacked and made a brief whimpering noise. Then there was the sound of gore splattering on rock.

When they both turned around, Scorpia’s eyes had turned watery, but she smiled, “Ooooh that’s better, clear the old noggin!”

Entrapta was also awake and bustled around the camp, setting up a small fire to boil what was left of their water, “Hearty gruel coming up! I also have some small, bite size snacks for camping excursions. Hard to get rations this small outside of Dryll..”

Soon they all had a bowl of steaming, watery oats and dried meat. Entrapta had handed around the tiny biscuits - small, crumbling oat-cakes. It wasn’t exactly a fulfilling meal, but it did the job. Tong Lashur lay back down, belly to the small fire and fixed his eyes onto Catra again.

“You were a Weaver. What plan have you?”

Catra stood and flexed. Her neck crackled from where she’d slept awkwardly. She felt the imagery of the dream already fading and focused on the lizard’s question.

“Right. So, Octavia’s covering loose ends. But she doesn’t want to, y’know make even more. Me, I’d have split - who cares what some mercs say? If anything it’d be good rumours. But as we can see from how she treated _you_ , this is a bit outside of their normal work.”

Scorpia raised a claw, “So, uh, how is this not normal? I thought the Weavers were a _kill em all, stab stab stab_ sorta bunch? From, y’know stories around the palace…” she froze, “When I worked in the palace. Which was a place I worked at.”

Catra gave her a _What the hell?_ Look, faintly incredulous, “What? Ok, nevermind, _focus_ . Yeah, we have that rep. For leaving no one on the _contract_ alive. But the Weavers are about _subtlety_ . The thin needle in the dark. Kill one person, change the course of history and all that? Yeah, Weavers actually _do_ that. Drop a whisper here, some info there, slit a neck over that way and bam - promising trade agreement turns into a war. I know, I helped that actually happen to the Frost Kingdom. Coldest three days of my _life_ never again, ANYWAY.”

Tong Lashur had switched his gaze to Scorpia, eyes suddenly lidded with faint suspicion. But he returned to stare at Catra, “So, stealthy. Why is this different? Just higher body-count.”

“That’s just the thing. Weavers don’t do kidnapping. It’s messy. It makes you a bigger target as an organisation. Makes it more personal. Also, don’t work with mercs, not directly. Again, too many connections, too much vulnerability, _too obvious_ . The Weavers work because _everyone_ uses them. Neutral. Kidnapping is... it involves holding something that _makes you a target_. And if the Weavers don’t take a contract it’s for a good reason.. Or so I thought. I’m getting off track. Main point, this is not normal process. Which means something big, or Octavia is doing the dirty on the organisation. If it’s the former, then rules are done. If it’s the latter we could be walking into a Brother hunting her down themselves.”

Tong Lashur cocked his head, “Brother?”

“You do not want to know. I’ve seen Brothers work. I’ve only ever seen _one_ die. And even then, afterwards… I wasn’t sure he… it… was really dead. It took a direct spell, focused into raw heat and energy. And even then… yeah. So, if one of them is there we just hang back, then pick up the pieces. But if Octavia is doing this… well, she’ll not want to be too obvious.”

Entrapta looked up from her work, “So, she'll perform an ambush, to maximise the effect and minimse the risk of collateral? Also to reduce the number of witnesses?”

Catra nodded, “Yeah, reckon so. Basically, she had a tactic she liked, she’ll adapt it again. Octavia is very _very_ predictable like that. Never did do well at countering… just hope she hasn’t learned too much. So, yeah. My guess is she won’t be _in_ the tavern. Or if she is, she’ll give them the gold and let them leave. She wants to kill the mercs, it’s too visible. Especially if they’re turning up piecemeal.You can bet she’s got those three idiots tracking them as they come into Scorpion hill. They’ll watch them, see them go to the Tavern, then probably have each initiate just take them out quietly. She might even risk it if there’s only one or two. Thing is, she doesn’t have an idea of survivors or captures. So….”

“What if she _isn’t_ there?” that was Scorpia who was frowning herself, “I mean, you just said it Wildcat. If there were captured mercs from the other groups then the cat’s outta the bag. No offence.”

Catra sagged to the floor and hugged her knees, “Yeah… yeah. But honestly, we try this or we go to the Monastery. And _no one_ wants to do that.”

Scorpia nodded and looked away. Entrapta continued to stare at her collection of dismantled parts and Tong Lashur just shrugged. The Scorpion warrior turned back to Catra and huffed, “So, fine. We can spitball loads of ideas, maybe the Weavers plan to sneak after the captives n’ kill them. Maybe they’ve left, maybe, well I don’t know. So, Wildcat, you _do_ know them… do you think they’re still there?”

Catra sighed and nodded, “I do. Because it’s Octavia. And she is not the most strategic. You saw that with the plan. She didn’t really think about what would happen after. If they’d gotten the Princess then I bet they’d have just run, let the mercs take the heat, let the rumours spread. But since they didn’t get her, and I’m damn sure they didn’t if they bothered trying to kill you,” she pointed at Tong Lashur, “That means she’s doing a cleanup. Because otherwise the Weaver reputation is gonna be _failed and didn’t pay debts_. Which is, sort of, something the Weavers did if we wanted a kill to look like an accident. Or to hide where we fucked up. But you have a limit. Kill twenty servants to hide a dead noble, looks freaky suspicious. But something about this… she’s gonna be panicking. So, what you said about captures? Yeah she’ll take out the important ones. But later. but she needs to know who's still around. Which means...”

Catra’s eyes glazed over as she thought. Scorpia leaned into her field of vision, “Uh, hey, Catra? All… all ok in there? Hey? Helloooooo?”

She swatted Scorpia’s claw away, “I think I got it. Yeah. YES! Alright, here’s my plan….”

\------------------------------

Kyle was not having a good day. Not at all. First off, his arm was still in a sling from where some Archer had hit him with a blunt arrow that had exploded into some sort of gunk. After Rojelio had dragged him away from _that_ fight, they’d had to help Octavia wipe out the lizards. And one of _those_ had followed through and properly broken it, compared to the sprain he’d had before.

The sling and the rudimentary splint meant that he was on _lookout_ . Lonnie had tried to reason with Octavia, that they were wasting time and needed to get back to the Monastery. But the Champion was unconvinced. Rojelio had quietly murmured to Kyle that he thought the woman was stalling. Which was understandable. They had failed _hard_. And all because Octavia had refused to help at Catra’s ambush site. They’d watched, had every chance to intervene. But Octavia had wanted to watch She Ra. Wanted to see her kill Catra. Because that was one thing she then didn’t have to do herself of course.

They’d tried to ambush the Unicorn down the road. But the archer had taken him out. Netted Lonnie too. Rojelio had been about to swing down to slice the beast’s throat but the girl, the _Princess_ , had woken up and the damn horse-thing had _vanished_ and appeared seventy yards along the road at a full gallop. Towards reinforcements. _Enemy_ reinforcements About thirty cavalry soldiers. Octavia had forced the retreat.

And then she’d had them slaughter the lizards. _No loose ends_.

He hadn’t asked about Catra. Hadn’t asked about Catra’s friends. He _should’ve_ . Either out of loyalty to the Weavers. Or maybe even to Catra - just to _know_ . But Lonnie hadn’t either. Or Rojelio. They just did what they were told. They’d been fast at it, but had still come away bruised. They’d avoided the main ambush, avoided a bigger fight beyond that _Archer._

And now they were back in Scorpion Hill, cleaning up loose ends. Or hiding. Or both. Octavia had sent Rojelio out after a pair of survivors from Grizzlor’s band. Their pride-leader had apparently fallen. They knew that because the two lion women had broken into some sort of ballad in the bar glorifying his death at the point of twenty spearpoints. Octavia had given them a pouch of coins, then sent their lizard friend after them. Rojelio had returned with the pouch twenty minutes later and a rumble that the lionesses were dealt with. Likely made to look like a fight where they’d killed each other. _Maybe worked for the lizards_.

And right now, Kyle was lounging in a cloak near the main road, watching travellers enter the town. Lonnie was on a rooftop nearby, watching _him_. And also dipping in on any lone mercs they recognised. Those didn’t need rounding up at the Tavern, or the pretence of coin. Those ones just got a slow acting dart in the neck, so they’d die on the road out of town, or in some other bar later in the day.

It was the tougher ones, the bigger bands. They needed to be identified, mollified, _then_ dealt with.

Kyle’s gaze flicked up as another wagon rolled in. He blinked and pushed back into the shadow of the stall he was lounged against as he focused on two dusty figures. The Scorpion girl and the engineer. The Scorpion looked in bad shape. She leaned heavily on the halberd and had an obvious bandage on her tail. The engineer was occupied with a journal, her strange hair doing the walking for her, whilst her machine plodded behind her on three legs. It belched steam irregularly and looked like it was going to rattle apart.

Kyle slipped into an alleyway and scuttled up the side of a wall. Even with one arm he could do it. He was the most agile of their little group. He got to the top of the small, clay building and ducked in behind a trellis structure, then gave a short whistle. Lonnie would hear it and be focused on his path. Then he made his way back down to the alleys and slunk to their pre-designated meeting point. He glanced around, nervously then exhaled as Lonnie slid down the side of a sloped wall and crouched nearby. She nodded at him.

“No sign of Catra?”

“Nah…. I think that She Ra may have actually killed her.”

Lonnie shook her head and gave a low whistle, “Damn. Was a hell of a fight. If you’re gonna go, that’s one hell of a way to do it.”

“Felt… wrong though,” murmured Kyle, “All this… feels wrong.”

Lonnie glared at him, but clutched at her arms. She swallowed, “Yeah, I know. But we gotta follow the Champion. She got _ordained_ to do this. They said is was her role, her ascension test. So, we gotta stick with her, help her answer. Or make her answer. We’ll help her with the cleanup, then we’ll march back to the Monastery.”

“Think they’ll punish us?”

Lonnie hung her head, “No idea. We were just told to do as she said, to follow the plan. We did that. She’s gotta carry the burden. She wants the mask, she gotta pay the price.”

Kyle nodded to the street, “And them?”

“They fought She Ra up close… reckon Octavia wants to know what’s what there. Our first sighting of that thing. No wonder it’s been causing so much trouble…” there was something like awe in the girl’s words. Kyle chuckled.

“Careful, ‘tavia might get jealous.”

Lonnie snorted and gave a half grin, “Whatever. Let’s tail ‘em. They’ll head for the tavern. They didn’t look in great shape….”

Kyle pursed his lips, “We were holding back a bit last time. I think we can take them,” but he felt uncomfortable. To be honest, the whole _assassination_ thing didn’t quite sit easy with him. But what other options were there? Anything worth money involved too much time or needed money to start in the first place. Or involved killing.

So why not stick with the people who were good at killing and gave you a roof? He could handle discomfort. He’d handled it all his life.

They followed the pair at a distance and paused as they entered the tavern. The building was low, but was a two story construction, with an open area on the second floor. They knew it stretched back to the rearmost room. Rojelio would be at the rear exit, in case the pair tried to escape that way. With these two, they’d want some time, just enough for Octavia to get what she needed.

They moved in and headed for the rear-most room, where that meeting had taken place, mere days ago. Kyle stepped through the door silently, Lonnie following behind. They saw Octavia standing on the other side of the table in the middle of the room. The benches on either side were empty, save for their own meagre packs. The Scorpion was talking.

“...so, yeah we, uh… we feel we’re due our compensation. Plus, y’know, extra for lo...losing _Wildcat_.”

She started sniffling, a bit too much. She seemed on the verge of bawling. The engineer reached over and awkwardly patted the Scorpion on her shoulder carapace, “Um. There. There. Scorpia. Yes. Indeed.”

Kyle frowned and glanced at Lonnie. She looked puzzled as well. This felt… weird.

Octavia was merely staring at the pair, “The mission was a failure. Your compensation is moot. Catra’s… passing was a disappointment,” the lie hung in the air, “Why should we pay you?”

Entrapta drew back her arm, “The contract stipulated assistance in the acquisition of a Princess, which was in your purview to achieve. We were merely employed to act as an engaging distraction, which we fulfilled as per the verbal agreement. The lizard man can confirm this. When he gets here.”

Scorpia glanced at Entrapta. Kyle frowned again at that. Did they know something? But the engineer seemed oblivions. So why was the Scorpion _worried_? His free hand dropped to the blade at his belt. He felt Lonnie adjust her footing next to him. Octavia smiled thinly.

“Tong Lashur will not be joining us. He… fell to the enemy.”

“Ah, so his share could go to us? You are likely flush due to the scarily disproportionate level of casualties as a result of She Ra’s intervention.”

“Ah yes… _She Ra_ . I think we should _talk more_ on that….” Octavia flashed her eye towards Kyle and nodded. He moved forward but paused as Entrapta suddenly bounced on her hair and turned to Scorpia.

“I win! I WIN THE BET!”

Everyone paused and Scorpia hissed, “Not the time, you know? Subtle…”

Octavia looked momentarily confused. Hell, Kyle felt confused. Entrapta turned and beamed at him, “I have been learning about expressions. You know, subtle social cues! And _that_ was a clear signal! I said they would employ a subtle series of signals and cues to incapacitate us. But _you_ said it was more likely they would, and I quote _sneak, won't make a sound_ … or words to that effect. I have it written down….”

Octavia looked between the pair then at Kyle and Lonnie, “Well?!”

As Kyle pulled his blade, Entrapta looked up and frowned, “Oh, sorry. That was _my_ cue as well.”

Her little steam-bot suddenly skittered to life and vaulted the table. It hit Octavia dead centre with all its mass and sent her sprawling. Scorpia moved faster than Kyle had expected and heaved the table over, then ducked down. There was the sound of a kettle overheating followed by a _bang_ and a scream from Octavia.

Lonnie and Kyle went into action immediately. His heard rate was pounding, but the training settled in. Clearly these two had expected a double cross. But they were just mercenaries. And Kyle and Lonnie were _Weavers_. It would be over quickly. They'd held back last time, lured them in with gold and bravado. He darted forward and jinked sideways to jab at the Scorpion. She parried and swept with her halberd. He danced backwards, then flicked the sword around so he had it held blade down, then lunged again. He moved like a knife fighter, low and fast, flicking the blade around. His wounded arm limited his movement, but he was faster than the scorpion, he knew.

His blade jabbed forward and stopped. He blinked. She had the blade gripped in a claw. Instinctively, he tugged, then remembered his training. He let go of the blade and fished out a fan of knives from his bandoleer.

And then the Scorpion _threw his sword back at him_ . He yelped in surprise and dodged, only to see the one handed swung of her halberd. He danced back again, then grinned. _Perfect. At range._

He threw the blades. One stuck in the Scorpion’s armour. Another _spanged_ off her carapace. A third sliced her cheek. She reeled back and he ducked forwards and scooped his blade up. Then _she_ was on the defensive as he jabbed and sliced. She was good, he had to admit. Her defences were good, her whole _form_ was good. Most sell-swords slashed, hacked and _brawled_ . This Scorpion fought like a duellist. Calm, collected. He felt worry gnaw at him. If he’d had both hands, he was sure she’d have been on the back foot faster. Sudden movement made him twitch. He leapt back as her tail jabbed forwards and then he stumbled as she brought the halberd around, wielding it like it was something _ethereal_ . She didn’t stab or jab. She _danced_. The weapon arced, spun and she moved with it. One knee bent with her raised a leg as she thrust it forward, like a spear, holding the halberd by the very tip of the haft. That turned into a falling lunge where she turned and spun her tail at him. Then a rear jab with the weapon butt, then an upward sweep with its blade. He was sweating suddenly, his footing off kilter. And her bruised face showed no fear, no anger. Just focus.

He parried and tried to regain the initiative, but was distracted as Lonnie staggered back, beating out flames on her armour. He risked a glance at the engineer and paled.

She was like some sort of spider. Her hair had her clambering the beams. The room’s ceiling wasn’t high, but she was so _agile._ Throwing knives were stuck into the wood beams and the clay of the roof where Lonnie's attacks had missed. Which was a shock in itself. The engineer woman, meanwhile, had a bellows which she was using to spray oil and the odd gout of flame at Lonnie. And she was _cackling_ gleefully as she did so. The floor on the other side of the room was slick and Lonnie was having to duck and dodge herself. But they weren't beaten yet. They just needed to adapt to this unorthodox fight. It would be a momentary lapse and then...

And then two things happened.

First, the rear door burst back on its hinges and Rojelio entered.

Backwards.

With a bloodied face. Kyle stumbled as he saw his _friend_ fall and roll to a thud against the toppled table.

And _then_ he felt a blade hook under his chin.

  
“ _Hey_ Kyle. Miss me?”


	10. The pieces begin to form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A showdown, a retribution. Old bonds remembered.
> 
> Octavia is confronted, the Weavers plan is sketched out. But to what ends?
> 
> BE WARNED - Graphic description of gore in this chapter.

The room was a tableau of violence forced to a shuddering halt. Flames licked across the dusty floor and burned gently away on the benches - it hadn’t spread to the beams or the wider fittings yet. Lonnie was still in a half crouch, blade drawn back, a throwing knife clutched in her off hand. Kyle froze and whimpered but remained stock still. On the floor, Rojelio groaned and Octavia’s whimpers of pain could be heard behind the collapsed central table.

Catra kicked the door behind her shut with her heel and forced Kyle into the room, “Scorpia, if you don’t mind… don’t want Kyle getting fidgety.”

The Scorpion warrior stepped forward and jabbed Kyle in the neck. He spasmed and flopped with a groan. Lonnie hiss and made to move but a hiss of air made her turn. The net hit her square in the front, then tightened around her. Scorpia stepped forward and jabbed her as well.

Over at the rear door a figure appeared and Tong Lashur stepped into the room. He rubbed his knuckles and rumbled at the fallen Rojelio, “This one fought well. Fast. Brave. But not  _ strong _ .”

Catra shrugged, “He gonna get up? He still alive?”

“You said  _ alive _ . He lives. Though I know not  _ why _ . His heart is worthy. I would honour him by…”

Catra shook her head. She wasn’t sure what it was; some sort of loyalty, or sympathy perhaps? Nostalgia? Or just making sure they’d gotten all their information first. Could she kill them  _ after _ they’d talked?

That she wasn’t sure of.

She’d slit many throats, young and old. In the dead of night, at dinner parties, in bedrooms and corridors. She’d spilled blood on battlefields and in swamps; woods and towns. But there was always  _ something _ \- a mission, or the fight to survive. Here? Were these people threats? What benefit did she have killing them?

_ They wouldn’t be around to get revenge _ . That was a good reason. But again, she wasn’t  _ sure _ .

Her mismatched eyes tracked to the flames and she tilted her chin to Entrapta, “Can you, y’know, make sure we don’t get barbequed, please?”

The engineer glanced around and chuckled, “Ooo, yeah. May have gotten a teensy bit  _ enthusiastic _ . But it still works really well! I estimate….”

“Entrapta….  _ Fires _ . Now.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

The engineer plucked several vials from her bandoleer and tossed them around the room. They shattered and flashed as white powder flashed into the air. The flames winked out as a foamy substance seemed to grow and expand as if from nothing. Then, with a hiss, the foam dissolved into soapy puddles, leaving scorched wood and ash behind. Catra blinked, then shrugged. Movement caught her eye and she smirked as she saw a blue-grey hand clutch the edge of the upturned table. Tong Lashur growled and reached for the scimitar at his belt, but Catra held up a hand.

Octavia hauled herself up and looked around, dazed. Her eyepatch was gone, revealing the shut lid and scarred tissue beneath. Her skin was blotchy with steam burns and Catra could see fragments of metal embedded in the woman’s arms. Clearly she’d taken quite the hit from Entrapta’s distraction. Catra moved closer whilst Scorpia bundled up the dazed Lonnie and Kyle. Tong Lashur watched carefully whilst he hoisted the groaning Rojelio and dragged him over to join his fellows.

“Octavia. Not looking so great. Bit of the balance swinging back, eh?”

The Weaver woman blinked her good eye, which was now bloodshot, and focused on Catra with a sneer, “You… you live?”

“Woa, can see you were front of the line when they were handing out observation powers… even with that  _ deficit _ .”

Octavia snarled but staggered. Catra was careful not to get too close though - the woman was still a Weaver - obfuscation was one trick of theirs. The Initiates had tried it with pretending to be  _ unskilled _ . Hence the surprise here - kept the Weavers off balance just enough to tip the odds and to stop them going  _ full tilt _ . Hard and fast, that was the plan.

Catra studied her former associate, “Tong Lashur there wants to carve his name into your skull and use it as a drinking vessel. Any reason he shouldn’t?”

Octavia shot a look to where the lizard was tying up the three Initiates. His yellow eyes regarded her for a moment and then he let out a low, rumbling chuckle, before turning back to his task. Octavia flicked her good eye back to Catra, “Do your worst….”

“Nah, I won’t subject you to my cooking. We just want answers and then we’ll be on our way. After we get our gold.”

“Gold… what gold?”

“Wow, that hit you hard’n I thought. The gold you promised for services rendered… and compensation for slaughtering Tong lashur’s clanmates. He might take financial reward over flesh-price…”

Octavia was clearly studying the occupants of the room, weighing her odds. Catra needed to finish this fast, before the woman recovered - Octavia was wounded, but Catra reckoned she would still be a  _ problem _ even with four of them. She walked around the table and made sure she was between Octavia and the rear door. The Champion watched her and straightened. Catra noticed that the woman’s blade was on the floor nearby. But likely as not, Octavia had backups.

“Rojelio has the gold. It won’t cover the promised value, but it is all we have.”

Catra snorted, “Yeah, figured you never intended to pay out.”

“Considering you failed, I think that it is more than generous.”

“You tried to kill Tong Lashur,” Catra said, matter of factly, “And I bet if I’d waltzed into th camp, you’d have tried me too. Hell, you tried with my fr...colleagues…”

“ _ Friends _ ? Oh dear, Catra, how low you have sunk. They are weaknesses. Things to be exploited,”

Catra frowned. She saw Octavia’s glance shift to her companions.  _ Ahhh so that’s what she’ll try _ .

“Whatever. Look, we did our job. The Weavers will now be known for  _ not _ paying their debts  _ and _ for being backstabbing idiots  _ and _ for trying to nab a Royal. And not even managing to do that. I get it, damage control. We can help with that…. We just want our money. And then we go away. And you don’t try to shank us. Or we hurt you and the Initiates.”

Octavia moved fast. She vaulted the table and dashed for Entrapta. She clearly thought her the weakest. The engineer looked up as the Champion barrelled towards her in one, two, three strides. A knife flashed and she had Entrapta held up using one arm, the blade tip against the Engineer’s stomach.

“No, I think not. You will submit. My Initiates have failed and I will deal with them after I have dealt with you...” She paused, confused by Catra’s nonchalance

“And what, we lie down to make it easy to slit our throats?” Catra leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the upturned table. Octavia blinked, “I mean we could threaten Lonnie and them, but i don’t think you’d care…”

“Indeed. But do you care not for your  _ friend _ ? Well then I will….”

Tendrils of hair coiled around Octavia’s arm and  _ tightened _ . The Champion went white as bone cracked and the knife clattered to the floor. Entrapta cocked her head to one side, “Subject appears to have a prior fracture of the forward arm joint, near the wrist, likely a result of the close proximity detonation and subsequent impact against the floor. Attempting a  _ pain _ response is having limited results. Note, Weaver pain threshold improvement a result of training or  _ other _ means. Ask Catra later.”

More hair wrapped around the arm holding Entrapte up and around Octavia’s throat. The woman made a choking noise and dropped the Engineer who watched, impassively, as the Weaver fell to her knees. Catra  _ tsked _ , “Let her breathe, Entrapta. Can’t interrogate a corpse…. Necromancers cost a  _ tonne _ .”

“Ooooh, good point. We lack ready access to Necromantic arts, hexes and divination summon rituals. A clear issue….”

Tong Lashur nodded, “Will not learn from her flesh.  _ Smells _ wrong.”

Catra glanced over at him and shrugged, “Might just be her,” The reptile shrugged and squatted down, content to watch. Catra turned her attention back to Octavia and sauntered over to squat next to her, “Let’s try that again. Money, Rojelio?”

Tong Lashur fished a pouch off of the unconscious lizard and jangled it. Octavia nodded slowly. Scorpia was also searching the other Initiates, yanking meagre coin pouches from them, as well as any weapons she could fish out. They’d fetch good money at least. Decent compensation to a point. The feline nodded slowly.

“So, why kill us? Or try to?”

“Like you said, damage limitation.”

“Yeah, makes no sense. Weavers like a bit of chaos….”

“Except we failed…. And we can’t be associated with…”

“Except Weaver involvement was  _ minimal _ . Could be played off as a rumour, or hysterics. Blame the mercs, let them rot…”

Octavia twitched, “They’d have  _ talked _ . We can’t have the Princesses knowing we’re…” her mouth clamped shut and Catra grinned.

“Oooooh. That sounds  _ interesting _ . So, not just one Princess, huh? Why the interest? Share with the room, ‘Tavia,” catra hooked a knife from her belt and tapped Octavia’s forehead with its tip, “Or you want to see what it’s like in the valley of the  _ blind _ ,” She trailed the blade tip down Octavia’s flat nose, then gently under her good eye, “I’m getting  _ nostalgic _ right now.”

The Champion stared at her defiantly. Right until Catra applied a  _ little _ pressure and the knife dug, gently, into the socket Octavia tried to rear back, but Entrapta’s hair held her tight. The woman cursed and babbled, “I… I don’t know everything. The Sisters want them. They are  _ untapped _ …. Whatever that means. Potential conduits for something. All of them are mages but not at their full potential. I’m not a magi, don’t know  _ shit _ about it.”

Catra pulled the blade back and cocked her head with a frown, “Wow. You fold  _ quick _ . Which means you’re lying. Or really,  _ really _ scared….” she regarded her knife, “‘I’m good.”

“How are you even  _ alive _ ? It never leaves anyone alive,” Octavia was glaring at her now. Blue and gold eyes met a single amber one.

“Oh, that  _ She Ra _ person you really should’ve mentioned… along with the  _ freaking Mage Princess _ …. “ she smiled, slowly, “You haven’t a clue, have you? No idea about…. Whatever She Ra is.”

Octavia’s gaze met hers and something shifted, “But  _ you _ do… it’s never spared a Weaver. No mercenary. It just  _ kills _ .”

Catra looked away and shrugged, “Then why haven’t you guys claimed it? Right up your street.”

“It’s a monster. It is driven by the Hope of Light…. The blinded fools have unleashed a horror against the balance.”

The Weaver seemed to be ranting. Blood loss, concussion and pain were clearly doing a number on her. But she’d spilled a fair bit. Given them the gold. The question was, would she give them anything else, “So, what, you were going to nab the Princess, let She Ra just thresh her way through us and then… head to the Monastery with a teleporting captive? This was  _ not _ thought through, Octavia.”

The Champion regarded her, “We had a… wait..  _ her _ ? “ she blinked, “You definitely know something…. You know who….”

Catra looked straight into Octavia’s eye and then brought the knife around sharply. It sliced through Octavia’s throat. The woman gasped, but no breath came. Her eye widened in panic. Catra reached forward and grasped the tendrils on Octavia’s head and yanked her head back, harshly. Entrapta made a grumbling noise and her hair whipped away from the gore. Octavia scrabbled for a blade with her uninjured arm but Catra kicked it away. Her claws scored a deep mark along the vambrace on Octavia’s forearm and split the flesh of the woman’s hand. She kept eye contact as the life ebbed from the Weaver. Dark blood poured down the front of the Champion’s armour as she grappled with Catra’s grip and flailed at her wounded throat. Then, with a last gurgle she shuddered and slumped. She hung from Catra’s hand until the feline released her. The body slumped to the floor, staining the dusty ground a dark brown.

Scorpia stared at the body, then at Catra, “Wh….what was that….”

Catra regarded the dead Weaver and nudged her with a toe. She felt strangely detached. Why had she done that? She’d killed a good lead. Then she checked that thought - a good lead for  _ what _ ? Technically this was the outcome they’d wanted - stop reprisals. Prevent the Weavers finding out?

Then she looked at the Groggy initiates. Her gaze tracked up to Scorpia who looked, weirdly, appalled, “What do you mean?”

“She.. .she was a prisoner and…”

“And would have gone back to the Weavers to likely get a bounty raised on us, whereupon they send more and more nasty assholes to kill us. This way we buy time. Also, she tried to double cross  _ us _ . And she killed  _ his _ band. Any input Tong Lashur?”

The reptile regarded the body, “Though she had no honour, you met her gaze and paid her respect. I assume for the sake of times past…. I am satisfied.”

Catra gestured to the reptile and met Scorpia’s gaze, “This is a  _ nasty _ world. Octavia tried to do the dirty on us  _ twice _ . I listened to those two talking. They watched our fight, didn’t try to help. They wanted She Ra to kill us… and….”

_ And I don’t want the Weavers to know who she is _ . Why didn’t she? What was it to her?

Scorpia watched her and nodded slowly, “So… what about information? She seemed about to spill.”

“Wording Scorpia,” smirked Catra humourlessly, “Nah, I think… I think that’s as much as we’re gonna get of the  _ evil plan _ . It’s to do with magic. And that is  _ not _ what we want to get involved in.”

Tong lashur looked at the Initiates, who were slowly coming round, “And these hatchlings?”

Catra eyed them and sighed. The blade in her hand suddenly felt heavy and she yanked a rag from her belt to wipe the blood from it. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at the three captives. Tong Lashur’s rumble made her look his way.

“If you have… connection to them, I can make it a swift death. I will even forgo their hearts. If it pleases you.”

Lonnie’s groan drew he gaze back. The girl rolled her eyes and fixed them on Catra, “Oh… ‘s you. So, we… we didn’t beat you then.”

Catra snorted at Lonnie’s matter of fact tone. She walked a step forwards and sat down in front of her, “Hey. So, uh… you really left us to fight She Ra alone?”

Her tone was conversational, but with an edge. Lonnie looked at her, then past her to Octavia. The dreadlocked girl swallowed and her eyes slid to Catra. She seemed to weigh her answer and nodded, “Yeah. We weighed getting involved. Octavia said no.”

“It was wrong….” that came from Kyle. His voice was thick and slurred, “So wrong. You… you’re one of us. You  _ were _ . But still… we could’ve helped. And maybe… maybe if we had….”

Lonnie nodded, “Then maybe we’d have got the job done.”

Catra tapped the tip of her blade against a claw and studied it, “Well, points in your favour for honesty. Still tried to kill us though.”

Lonnie shrugged through her netting, “Yeah. It’s fucked up,” she looked Catra in the eye, “You gonna get this over with quick?”

She frowned when the feline girl gave no answer. She glanced at Tong lashur, who yanked a knife from his belt and moved towards Rojelio. Suddenly, Kyle lurched and flung himself atop the unconscious lizard, “Don’t you touch him! Don’t you  _ dare _ . I’ll...I’ll….”

Catra held up a hand and Tong Lashur paused. The large lizard shrugged and sheathed the blade, “Interesting. Thought there was no loyalty? Just the mission.”

Lonnie stared at her, “Yeah, that’s bull. You survive if your  _ tolls _ survive…”

“Tools huh?” Catra looked up and met her eyes. Lonnie maintained the stare.

“Yeah. Or, y’know… friends.”

“And the Weavers haven’t beaten that out of you yet?”

“We work well together. We know each other. Support each other. Not all the Sisters think like… like Octavia.”

Blue and gold eyes regarded her for a moment. Then catra sheathed her blade and stood, “Yeah…. If you were a fanatic I’d have slit you in two. But…. I owe you guys. You hauled me back when… when Adora went down. Saved me. But  _ he _ isn’t happy.”

She pointed at Tong Lashur. Lonnie gulped and looked at Catra, “What… what do you want?”

“What was all this for? It just seems so… weird. So  _ big _ .”

“We’re initiates, we don’t know…”

“You’re  _ you _ Lonnie. I know when we were Neonates we found out  _ damn near everything _ . So, what do you know?”

Lonnie seemed to be wracking her brains, “Uh, they… they want a Princess. The Sisters got really agitated, frantic, a few months ago. Then the orders came down for a Princess. Alive…. But with the parents still alive. And I heard that some of the contracts on the rulers were… were waived, or put into some sort of holding arrangement.”

Catra frowned, “They… they delayed contracts? On  _ Royals _ ? Those are…”

“Priority, yeah. Get a Brother on them, normally. But it was  _ only _ Royals or rulers with an heir. And they’re after any Princess. This Glimmer, the one we were sent for… it was the second attempt, I think… they tried for that Frosta,, but… that went  _ bad _ . They sent three Champions but… it went badly.”

Catra whistled, “Wow. What happened that  _ three _ Champions went down?”

Lonnie shook her head, “She Ra,” That made everyone turn to look at her, “She was at the Ice Palace… like she was waiting. Reports from spies… we were made to read them. She killed one Champion as soon as they arrived in the Kingdom. Forced the other two to ground. Then got the other one whilst they were on reconnaissance… Third one she cornered in the Palace and…. Yeah.”

“Why didn’t they send a Brother?”

Lonnie shrugged, “No idea. No Brothers have been dispatched on tasks for half a year. Or Sisters either.”

Catra paced, “So, they’re after Princesses? Not  _ Just _ this Sparkles girl?”

Scorpia shuffled her feet and looked around the room, “Hey uh… we made some… some real loud noises Catra. We sure no guards are… y’know, on their way?”

“Not now Scorp, we’re fine…”

“Just, uh, I think I hear… maybe my imagination, but maybe we should, I don’t know, relocate? Dead body, signs of a fight….”

Catra ignored her and looked at Lonnie, “So, how’d she know? She Ra didn’t intercept you guys this time.”

“Sisters put a really  _ really _ strong masking spell on us. In the armour. But… yeah I don’t know. She was  _ there _ as soon as the ambush started, near as dammit.”

Entrapta peered at Lonnie and then fished a magnifying glass from her overalls, “Oooh yeah, I can see the runes.  _ Fascinating _ . Why are they dim?” Catra frowned at her and shrugged.

“Yeah and I saw her, I think, the night before…. Searching.”

Lonnie swallowed, “You… You think it’s a gi-”

Catra made a pained expression, “Don’t finish that sentence. Otherwise i  _ will _ cut your throat. Look, Lonnie, getting outta here? You need to  _ forget _ us. Pretend we don’t exist. Say Octavia got mauled by a merc, whatever…”

The dreadlocked girl swallowed, “But… they’ll….”

“They won’t care. If they’re this desperate, they’ll send you off on another mission. Like you and Kyle said. All we wanted was our gold and to be left alone. We part ways, slate is clean. Ask too many questions… we walk out and leave four bodies in here, not just one.”

Lonnie twitched but nodded, “They may come after you… and they definitely will if we’re dead.”

“Harder to track us if you’re dead… so I’m taking a  _ risk _ . I didn’t trust Octavia. Not sure I trust you, Lonnie. But we got  _ history _ . Loyalty to something beyond the Shadow or whatever. But next time, well…. We’ll have to see.”

Rojelio groaned and lifted his head. He blinked up at Tong Lashur and made a faint gurgling noise. The larger lizard chuckled and shrugged. Rojelio flicked his tail over and Tong lashur whipped his blade out, slicing off a large section from the tip down. Kyle rocked in his bindings until Rojelio looked him dead in the eye and hissed. Kyle froze, then settled back down. The larger reptile hooked the large chunk of meat up and placed it into his satchel, still bloodied. Catra exchanged a puzzled glance with Scorpia and then looked at Tong Lashur who just nodded.

“I trust the hatchlings. This one has offered blood submission. A guarantee of his soul's honour. I will consume it, to show faith. We can trust them.”

Catra flung her hands up in exasperation, “Well that’s  _ fine _ then. Eat a bit of prisoner and all’s ok! I ever tell you, you guys are  _ weird _ ?”

Tong Lashur grinned and shrugged, “You shake hands… that is weird.”

Lonnie coughed, “So… we… ok?”

Scorpia moved to the door and peered around it, the movement catching Catra’s eye. She frowned, “What’s up?”

“I said… I can hear…” Beyond, in the bar, there was the muffled noise of shouting, the rattle of metal and the thud of boots. Scorpia peered through the crack, then ducked back, “Soldiers… Scorpions  _ and _ Brightmooners….”

Catra turned and looked at Lonnie, then down at the armour, then at Entrapta, “You said the runes were dim….”

Lonnie swallowed, “She’s…. She’s coming, isn’t she?”

The group exchanged glances. In one move, Catra drew her blade and slashed down. The net around Lonnie fell away. Then Kyle’s bindings and then Rojelio’s, “Run. You may have to fight, but you get to die on your feet.”

Lonnie stood uncertainty, then exchanged glances with her fellows, “Thanks…”

“Yeah yeah. Just… don’t let me see you again, Lonnie. And don’t get a Brother set after me, ok?”

The Weaver trio exchanged another glance then all nodded. Kyle gave a shrug, “Yeah… we… we owe you Catra. For not being there… and for this.”

“Just  _ go _ . Need you to lead that walking tin thing away,” she gave them a harsh grin, “Or us to lead it away. At this point, don't care. Don't want to fight.”

The group headed for the rear door and opened it, then snuck into the alleyway behind. Immediately, the Weavers made a break down a side street, vanishing into the urban sprawl. Catra’s group hugged a different path and began to make their way to the town’s edge. Scorpia seemed especially on edge, “Oh dear. Oh dear. This is  _ not _ good. If we… if we run into her again… will she, y’know, be… and what if the guards catch me… i mean us.. .I mean, well, maybe the palace, or perhaps, I don’t know they won’t realise what,.. I mean..”

Catra paused at a junction. She imagine she could hear a ruckus back the way they’d come - no doubt the guards would have discovered Octavia’s body and the chaos of the room. That’d at least buy them time by sowing some confusion. They were about to move into one of the main streets when a commotion ahead made them freeze and hang back in the dusty alleyway.

A group was advancing down the street, bystanders pushing themselves back between stalls or against walls. A column of soldiers - ten Scorpions, ten Brightmoon, trudged along behind a rider.

A rider in full armour, atop a dirty white unicorn. The beast exhaled steam from flared nostrils and swung its head in irritation at is clomped down the sandy street. The rider sat tall in the saddle, a white cloak draped over one shoulder, reigns held loosely in one hand. The greatsword was strapped to a scabbard hung from the saddle itself. The helmeted head scanned the crowd, moving from side to side, searching.

Catra pressed herself back against the wall. She’d peered around the corner and spotted the advancing column. She swallowed, a sense of dread infused her whole being. The group shrank back and ducked behind a stack of crates. Catra watched as the rider passed the alley, just visible over the crowd in front.

As the rider passed, then helmet swung back and the visor seemed to lock onto Catra. She felt her pulse increase and a lump formed in her throat. She could imagine those grey-blue eyes behind the metal. The helmet stayed focused on her, but the rider didn’t slow. They kept going, until She Ra vanished out of sight past the alley entrance. Catra slumped back and let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

She looked around and saw Scorpia hiding under a tarpaulin, then looked at Entrapta and Tong Lashur. The pair were further back and looked just as spooked. Catra swallowed.

“I think…. I think we need to get the hell outta town.”


	11. Amidst the trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cunning plan, what could go wrong?
> 
> A race.
> 
> A revelation.

Getting out of town was hardly an issue. The guard and the visiting Brightmooners seemed to have mainly congregated around the inns, the contract houses and the caravan locales - clearly marking all the areas _dangerous types_ would likely aim to go - booze, bed, cross-border travel, basically. And they were _expecting_ panicked people to run. Which was why Catra was impressed byTong Lashur’s fairly bold plan.

“We sell things.”

Catra had blinked, “Excuse me?”

“They look for warriors. We become not-warriors. They watch gates for desperate people. Scared people. _Running_ people. Not expect _irritated_ or _bored_ people.”

Scorpia and Catra had exchanged surprised looks from their huddled alleyway. Entrapta had mused and nodded slowly, “Sensible. The most effective infiltrations are when the subjects are perfectly blended with their surroundings. Overt attempts at concealment are, ironically, the most obvious, especially during periods of high tension and…”

Scorpia had dragged Entrapta closer and clamped a claw over her mouth, “OOOO k then…. But what are we gonna, uh…. Sell?”

Which was how they were now walking through the market, hauling their looted weapons (Still in Scorpia’s sleeping mat) along with a few quietly pilfered cloaks. Tong Lashur had managed to get a sack of grain and appropriated a small barrow to load more goods in. Entrapta, ever the genius, had produced a few vials of liquid which she arranged in a rapidly constructed bottle-box, which she placed into the barrow, along with a few of her scavenged parts.

Catra had removed some of her armour and stripped down to just her chest armour and vambraces, along with her boots and pants. She looked less like a fighter and just some hired thug now. Scorpia didn’t do much other than sacrifice her halberd to be strapped to the barrow and hefted the roll mat to sit more centrally on her frame. Tong Lashur slid his bracer and scimitar into the barrow as well - it looked more like some sort of miniaturised tinker’s cart now, with metal rattling and items dangling over the edge.

The reptile gripped the handles and hunched himself to look more like some sort of beast of burden. Entrapta took the lead and led them from the back alleys and into the relatively busy throng. Instead of heading for the nearest gate, they angled towards the main bulk of the market. Catra held her breath as they moved through the souk. The merchants all babbled amongst themselves as the Brightmooners stood, awkwardly, at the fringes of the market. Between gaps in the stalls, Catra could spy the front of the inn they’d vacated just a scant couple of hours prior.

The Scorpion soldiers seemed on edge. _Very_ on edge. They were snapping at the locals, ensuring a wide berth was kept from the inn itself. Catra caught a glimpse of the _massive_ unicorn, tethered to the front of the inn. But no sign of the warrior woman.

The group shuffled along stalls until they came to one selling shoddy weapons. Entrapta eyed the metals and frowned, then, suddenly, started talking to the confused Mushroomer behind, asking about _origins_ and _mine of repute_ for the dirty iron and copper weapons. Catra blinked, but stayed to one side, playing the role of dutiful but bored merchant guard. Entrapta was clueless and lacked much in the way of social norms but she could talk _enthusiastically_ . Scorpia had to step forward a couple of times, pretending to be some sort of junior partner, asking questions like “wouldn’t it be better if we negotiated lower?” or “We’re trying to sell our stock,, not, uh… not _bulk buy_.”

Scorpia, now Catra watched her, seemed nervous. _More_ nervous. It’d been since their encounter with Octavia. And it was weird - the woman was usually enthused or slightly excitable. But now she looked positively twitchy. It both helped and hindered their little act.

Catra’s eyes were drawn to movement at the inn. The Brightmoon guards came to attention as an armoured figure stepped from the inn. The innkeeper came after, hauled between a pair of Scorpion guards. Catra watched as She Ra approached a more ornately dressed Scorpion soldier. She indicated the innkeeper and the guard nodded, then gestured to his men. They hauled the man off, away into the crowd. So, She Ra didn’t want the man. But he was inconsequential, surely? He’d have barely seen anything. She glanced at Scorpia and saw the woman staring, guiltily, towards the inn, but she blushed and looked away when she caught Catra frowning.

Her gaze returned to She Ra, who had mounted her charger. The Brightmooners formed up, silver cloaks flowing like moonlight as they formed a column. Again, Catra froze as She Ra seemed to look _right at her,_ even though she was concealed by a stall and was watching through a slit in the cloth. Across a packed market.. But then the gaze swept on. She Ra raised a mailed fist and spun it in a lazy circle, then kicked the Unicorn into a slow trot. The contingent of Brightmooners left.

She felt herself breathe normally, then turned back to find that Entrapta had bought _more weapons_ . Using _their_ gold. She hissed in frustration, “What. The. Shade... ?”

The engineer grinned, “Raw materials. Got to rebuild _Emily_.”

“Your… automaton was called _Emily_?”

“Yes. Giving an item a unique identifier invests an element of care and focus onto it. It allows me to… invest, yes, that’s the word… invest myself into it. A hammer is a hammer, a nail a nail. But they are means to an end. _A name_ for something I make? Means _something_. Maybe it’s not a finished something but… it helps me.”

Catra blinked. That was, perhaps, the first conversation she’d had with Entrapta that hadn’t involved journals, tests or some form of request for a sample of something. Dazed, she reached out and patted the girl on the shoulder, “Huh… good talk.”

Scorpia seemed oblivious and Tong Lashur looked like he’d fallen asleep. The quartet moved away from the market and down another street. They stopped at the workshop that they’d found Entrapta at when this whole debacle started. Catra leaned against the wall out front and adopted a carefully cultivated expression of boredom. She pulled her hood down because nothing screamed _suspicious_ louder than someone in a hood and cloak just standing nonchalantly about.

Inside she could just make out Scorpia involved in a brief, hushed conversation with the store owner, along with the sound of Entrapta getting her tools readied.

It was risky, staying static. Especially if the guards had their descriptions. But, again, it was likely they weren’t really looking in the open. She saw a few bored-looking patrols poking in and out of alleyways. And she could imagine the gates were being inspected, at least in a cursory way.

They hung around until the sun began to sink. Scorpia joined her out front, having shed her excess armour and helm. A pair of soldiers approached, peering into the entrances of shops, but otherwise looking fairly unfocused. Then the clocked Catra. She cursed under her breath - Magikats weren’t too common and she’d only seen a couple of others around the town. So, it was likely she’d been ratted.

She watched as one of the Scorpions switched his halberd to another hand. Then the other soldier froze and a claw descended onto the soldier of his compatriot. The advancing soldier blinked, then swallowed. The pair of them clacked their claws rapidly and then averted their eyes and marched past, ignoring Catra completely.

Silence stretched out, broken only by Entrapta’s happy humming. Catra stared into the middle distance, then looked at Scorpia. The woman stood demurely, claws held in front of her at waist height. She was staring up at the sky and Catra paused. The expression on the woman’s face was not as readable as usual. Scorpia was usually an open book. And now, Catra realised she couldn’t get a read on what her friend was thinking.

“Uh… hey Scorpia?”

“Hmmm?”

“We…. you ok there? I’m not being hugged, badgered or, y’know…. Persuaded to do something stupid right now.”

A faint smile ghosted across the chiselled features. The red carapace on her face glistened in the fading light of the afternoon and Scorpia inhaled. It was a _big_ movement, the woman having the lung capacity of an ox. Then the Scorpion warrior turned sad eyes on Catra and shrugged.

“Ever wonder, Wildcat? I mean really _think_ ? About the past? Of course you do, what am I saying,” she smiled self consciously, “Nah, I mean… however much you run, or try to change or, I don’t know, try to do things _differently_ … it still catches up with you.”

Catra swallowed. Scorpia looked vulnerable. And not in the kicked-puppy way she usually did, but something _deeper_ . So Catra deflected, “Well, can I present the evidence that is _She Ra_ , my former…. Something now potentially out to kill me?”

Scorpia snorted and shrugged, “Yeah. Peas in a pod, we are.”

Catra frowned, “What do you mean, Scorp… there’s something going on. I know I’m difficult and crabby, but I’m not _dumb_.”

The warrior looked at her and Catra nearly took a step away. The eyes in that face were hard for a moment, “Not here. Not right now. I think… yeah, maybe it’s time I explained a few things.”

“Not reassuring me here, Scorp.”

Her friend laughed. It was normally a jolly sound. But now it felt a bit hollow, “It’s nothing bad, I don’t think. Just… complicated. I know I’m all, ‘yeah, let’s go get them! Go us!’ but right now… sorry Wildcat. I just wanted to be the _muscle_ for once….”

Catra stood there and watched as Scorpia ducked back into the workshop. She shook her head and blinked, “What the Shade is going on….?” she muttered to herself, incredulous.

Entrapta emerged at dusk, a newly restored Emily in tow. The automaton seemed larger, slightly more spherical, albeit with a comfy seat atop its frame. And that wasn’t all. Entrapta had _restored_ the weapons they’d bought. Well, the ones she hadn’t melted for scrap.

“I've reinforced the tang on some of these knives… and place metal banding on your halberd, Scorpia. Should be able to take more of an impact now, with no risk to the haft. Oh! And we can sell the rest for… um… what was the word, Scorpia?”

“Profit?”

“PROFIT! Goody. Because money is important, yes?”

Catra dragged her hand over her face, “Yes, but where can we _sell_ these amazing goods… the souk is closed and I doubt we can hide in town much longer…”

Scorpia shrugged, “They’re our goods to take to the next town. And we can probably leave now…”

“At night? What merchants travel after dark?”

“One’s bored by all the _checking_ and the _soldiers_ and angry at no profit,” grumbled Tong Lashur, “Suggest we go now.”

Catra huffed but didn’t argue. This time Entrapta led the way, with their slightly diminished barrow in tow with tong Lashur. Then came Scorpia with her burden and wearing only the most basic of armour and undergear. and then Catra, looking every inch the underpaid guard.

At the gate they were, indeed, stopped. Queried on their destination. Entrapta was fairly good and rambled on. This confused one of the two gate guards enough that he just nodded, dazed and waved them through. Scorpia kept her head down and hunched up and the guard didn’t give her a second look. Catra watched as the second guard, however, froze and swallowed.

They definitely needed answers.

Night had settled and they were an hour away from Scorpion hill, on the main road. Entrapta seemed to be leading them east and Catra jogged up to talk to her. She’d spent most of the prior hour doubling back to ensure there was no pursuit, “Ok, first off… how did we get out?”

“Told them we lost our wagon paying off debts to cover our poor sales. Not _technically_ a lie either. Then he asked what we had and, well, I just _had_ to explain my new fast-smelt process for breaking down older gear and that led to…”

“Ok, fine, sorry I asked… now… where are we going?”

“Oh, um… this… way?”

Catra held up a hand and every thudded to a halt. She looked at the barrow, then at everyone else, “We… uh… we may need to ditch that.”

Scorpia shook her head, “Maybe the next town we can actually sell it? Like we planned, so, we uh can recoup?”

The feline-girl chewed her lip then nodded, “I guess.. But we need to setup camp. Where are we anyway? Isn’t this… the road to Brightmoon?”

They all swallowed. They were still in the scrublands, but Catra could make out a distant black blotch that was the Whispering Woods on the horizon. Entrapta chuckled, “Oh YES! That’s why…. I forgot. I hypothesis that, if we are indeed being tracked, or liable to _be_ tracked, that this direction is the last one they would expect us to take. Add in that the Woods are known for being hazardous to traverse and… well. PRESTO!”

“Presto. What’s _Presto_?”

“No idea! Just seemed appropriate. Do you… do you not think the plan is…?”

Catra rocked her head back and sighed, “No.. no it’s a good plan. But… let’s setup camp in a bit. It’ll take another day to reach the woods and, well… if we can get some shelter out here, that;d be good.”

They made camp in a small cluster of raised rocks after walking another couple of hours. No one spoke much, though Catra was waiting for Scorpia to open up. She wanted to drag it out of her, but something made her pause. That night they all slept fitfully, waking at the slightest screech of night birds, or the crackle of wind on stone.

Catra was the first to await in the weak pre-dawn light. She mustered the group and they set out again. The silence unnerved her and made her impatient to move. The group fished the armour and gear from the barrow and re-armed themselves, just in case. It made the barrow look smaller but not by much. Catra still felt hauling a load of junk was idiotic, considering they still had a substantial amount but then again dumping a whole host of goods they _could_ maybe pawn… she partly regretted not just selling it in town, but then they wouldn’t have _looked_ the part.

They walked for another six hours, slowing only as the midday sun began to beat hard. As they passed midday Catra could make out the woods, visible now as a discernible line of trees atop a ridgeline. She exhaled and smiled at Entrapta and the group picked up speed. Catra wasn’t sure why they felt the urge but she felt the fur on the back of her neck rise slightly.

Halfway up the incline, with the woods maybe a little under a mile away, Tong Lashur froze, then dropped to his belly. He writhed on the floor and hissed. The women exchanged glances, confused, but then the reptile locked his eyes to Catra’s, “Do you not hear it? Feel the ground? Vibrate? Smell it on the air?”

Catra blinked and slowly clasped her hand to the back of her neck. She’d been focused on the woods ahead, her senses zeroed on threats _before_ them. Her ears twitched and she turned to look back to the scrubland behind them. She squinted as her ears could pick up something _distant_ . She crouched and felt the ground. Nothing. But then, the lizards had _weird_ senses. Then she saw it.

A thin plume of dust,

An army? A body of men? Or….

A single rider.

Heading for them.

Catra swallowed, “Everyone, head for the woods. Now,”

Scorpia nodded, “Running… yeah sounds… sounds like a plan Wildcat.”

Entrapta blinked, then did something to Emily. The machine extended it’s legs and rose. then to unhooked a pair of stubby, multi-jointed arms that hefted the barrow. It scuttled up the hill, Entrapta’s hair adding more grips to the swaying mini-cart. Tong Lashur was loping as fast as he could. Catra knew lizards couldn’t do sustained sprinting, but damn if the green-bastard wasn’t trying.

She glanced at Scorpia and the pair turned as one to begin the mad dash.

The rider was a good few miles behind. But they were _mounted_ on something _hideously_ fast. Maybe unnaturally so. 

Ahead, Tong Lashur staggered. They maybe had only a few hundred yards to go. Catra passed him and hauled on his arm, “Come _on_.”

“I… I can fight. I will buy you time.”

She stared at him incredulously, “One… if that’s who I think it is, she will _end_ you…. And two… what the hell?”

“You saved me… I will save you.”

Suddenly Scorpia was there, her arms hooked around the lizard, “Nuh uh. No more dumb heroism. If anything…. It’s me… but later…”

Catra shot her a confused look and then helped Scorpia haul the reptile. Tong Lashur tried to protest but the threat of Scorpia’s stinger made him grumble and speed up. Ahead, the woods loomed closer and closer. They passed low bushes and thick scrub, fought through tangled thorns.

She risked a glance behind at a two hundred yards and felt a thrill of fear. The rider was closer, maybe half a mile. And it was _her_.

Light reflected off the armour and the wet flanks of the unicorn. A red cloak billowed behind her like a wave of blood and her hair shone like sunbeams.

 _What, am I scared or turned on?_ Catra decided to deal with _that_ confusion later. Exhilaration talking couple with pant-shitting terror. The memory of watching She Ra… of watching _Adora_ butcher way through mercenaries like they were _nothing_ was suddenly there. And it spurred her on.

Then they were there, in the woods. The trees were sparse at the edge, but thickened quickly. The underbrush was tangled, thick and not easy for any form of mount. It was difficult for _them_ as they forced their way through. Their advance was steady, fast and borderline panicked. Once more she looked back. The edge of the tree line was barely visible, obscured by trunks and hanging vines. But, for a moment, she felt blue-grey eyes on her, saw a flash of red and silver through the trees. Catra froze and watched.

But further pursuit did not seem to be forthcoming. She peered, squinted, but couldn’t see anything.

With a curse, she turned and continued on, catching up to her group. They moved deeper into the woods and the light above began to fade as the canopy thickened.

The trees here were _large_. The size and width of small buildings. Their roots became arches, or tangled networks underfoot, the topsoil thicker with wood than leafmold.

After another hour, they paused in the shade of a vast tree, between a pair of vast roots. It stood slightly alone amidst the others and looked almost like three trees entwined. The other trees around seemed to lean away from it, as if fearful. Or reverent.

They slumped, exhausted. Entrapta hopped off Emily, who seemed to be steaming fairly badly. Catra inched away, remembering what had happened to Octavia. Scorpia leaned her head against a gargantuan root and sucked air, before she fished a canteen from her belt and drank deeply. Tong Lashur just fell forward and began to snore, prone against the earth.

With a deep sigh, Catra fell on her ass, then splayed on her back. She felt the heat roll off her in waves. The air of the forest was cool and she basked in it. She swallowed, thickly, and hauled her own water pouch up. She drank deeply and let some of it splash onto her throat and collar bone, then hissed at the blissfully cool sensation.

“That.. .was too close,” she croaked out.

Scorpia nodded, “We… uh we safe?”

Catra glanced at Tong Lashur, then flicked her ears. All she could hear was distant birdsong, the creak of trees, “Seeing as he’s on relapse and I can’t hear the sound of angry metal hitting wood, I think we’re clear for now…” she managed. Her eyes were about to flutter closed as something hit her memory. She struggled up and squinted at Scorpia with a frown, “What did you mean _‘you;_ ? Is this… something to do with…. That whole Scorpion Hill _weirdness_?”

Scorpia flushed and turned. She slid down the root and took some shuddering breath, “Uh… maybe? Kind of? I have to be honest, Wildcat i may have,,, omitted a few things when I met you. And then, well, never got around to telling you. Because you know how these things are and, gosh doesn’t the time just _fly_ when you’re having fun, huh? And, well, it has been so much fun. Like my dad says, you have to really _live_ these things. Knows a lot my dad. And my moms too. Phew, so much. Lot to unpack here, but, by golly Scorpia you are going to _do this_. So, um, here we go.”

Catra stared at her and shook her head, “Just… spit it out…”

Scorpia swallowed, then blinked, “Ok. Right. Straight to it. Right. Ok. Gosh. Phew. promise you uh, you won’t think any different, Catra?”

“Woa, must be serious,” cackled Catra. She realised she was having a bit of a crash post panic and her limbs were shaking slightly, “Reveal away…” she should be irritated, maybe even angry. This was clearly something to do with the metal death girl following them. But right now she was light headed.

“Ok, so, well, you know how all the guards and the scorpions were being, well…. A bit familiar? And, maybe a bit, uh, as you put it, well, weird. Well, here I go… truth is, um, Catra…” Scorpia paused and took another breath. Then another voice piped up. Female. Slightly nervous. _Keen._

“Oh goodness me! Visitors! Hello! Um… hi, so, why are you next to my tree?”

Catra fell backwards in surprise, her normal reflexes clearly dulled by exhaustion. She looked up and got an upside down view of _something_. Tanned skin the colour of young bark, hair the colour of straw and dark brown eyes regarded her. The figure wore a tunic and skirt of what looked like woven fronds and leaves.

Except as Catra stared she noticed something _off_ . The tan skin had a certain _woody_ texture to it. The hair looked a bit too thick to be, well, _hair_. And the clothing didn’t seem to be all that separate from the woman herself.

“Oh where are my manners!” exclaimed the stranger who, Catra noted, had a bow slung over her shoulder. She seemed to be staring at Scorpia for some reason as well _,_ “Welcome to Plumeria! So nice to have another Princess here!”

Tong Lashur opened one eye and sighed, “Oh. A dryad. We die now.”

Catra blinked. There was a word on the tip of her tongue.

“ _WHAT?”_


	12. When great trees fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions and a confusing appearance. Catra considers destiny.
> 
> Scorpia is confronted. Her tale yet to be told.

The initial shock wore off relatively quickly. Catra was still frozen, a bit confused by several revelations. Scorpia was frozen because she was just  _ staring _ at the Dryad. Entrapta had her hands under her chin and looked positively delighted. Tong Lashur seemed confused, mostly.

After a few more seconds of silence, his eye slicked open and he coughed, “We are not dead?”

The dryad blinked and looked away from Scorpia and cocked her head, “Should you be?”

The lizard pondered this and nodded, “Yes.”

“Um… why? You didn’t chop down  _ trees _ did you?”

Catra raised a hand, “Does, uh… firewood count?”

The dryad paused to consider then shrugged, “Acceptable, as long as you didn’t  _ fell _ anything.” Catra blinked, swallowed and glanced at her friends, then gave a confused shrug. Tong Lashur still seemed perturbed and the Dryad frowned at him, “Why should you be dead…?”

“Because you are… a dryad?” Tong lashur sounded like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child. The bark-coloured woman tapped her chin then hopped suddenly, as if delighted.

“OH! OH! You’re from the  _ swamp _ ,” Catra felt dazed. How did that explain anything? The dryad continued, “Don’t worry, we’re not… like that here. Only things that die are consumed.”

Tong Lashur blinked, “We die….”

“Yes but you haven’t  _ died _ by other means. We don’t  _ do _ that. Unless you decide to… well… do something unwise. Or you’re, y’know… meant to be eaten.”

Catra struggled to her feet and dusted off the leaf mold on her armour, “Not exactly reassuring us here! And, well, uh, there’s… there’s one of you? Who’s this  _ we _ .”

Tong Lashur rolled his visible eye, “And I thought tiny furry thing was smart,” he struggled up and gestured around. Catra frowned then looked. Then looked  _ again. _ What she had taken for ferns or strange shapes in bark coalesced and moved. Humanoid shapes stepped out of gaps between trees, or the splits in roots. An entire section of a tree stepped away, revealing a bark free outline against the trunk.

But she was  _ sure _ they hadn’t been there before. Not in a tangible sense. She sniffed and shuddered - there was no  _ smell _ beyond soil and the sickly scent of sap and berries. She suddenly felt  _ incredibly  _ vulnerable.

The new arrivals all seemed shirtless or veering scarily towards nudity, but lacked any overt sexualised characteristics. Not that she could make out. But they all seemed to have weapons. Catra swallowed, “If, uh… if you’re so peaceful, what’s with the bows?”

The Dryad, some sort of leader smiled, “We’re peaceful. Not stupid. And some take more than they’re permitted. We… tolerate some felling - trees that are not quite as developed, or sickly. Or placed poorly within the woods. And we ask for balance. Some… abuse that trust. And they help keep the cycle going,” at this, her foot tapped the soil. Catra looked at it and nodded slowly, realisation kicking in.

“So, uh… keep fire to a minimum, just… what… eat the berries and we’re all equivalent?”

The dryad smiled and nodded, then looked at her weapons, “No trouble and there’ll be no trouble. Also… going to have to ask you to stay for a while.”

Catra tried to resist the urge to grasp her weapons, “Why?”

The dryad smiled, and rocked her head from side to side, “Not sure really, but she said it was important and that you had to stay put…”

Things just seemed to be getting weirder. Catra wondered if she hadn’t collapsed with exhaustion running into the forest and was now hallucinating. She marshalled her thoughts and tried for a friendly grin. To one side Scorpia winced and made an  _ eeeesh _ noise. Catra softened her rictus smile slightly, “ _ Who?” _

The Dryad cocked her head and shook it, “Ah, she said you’d ask that. And I wasn’t to confuse you. At least I think she said that, hard to follow, but oh well! Anyway, you all look absolutely  _ famished _ !”

Catra snorted, “What, got some other travellers to feed to us?”

“Not today! Maybe if you’d come along next week…” hummed the dryad. Catra blinked and saw the creature wink at her. She leaned her head back and groaned.

“You are the  _ worst _ .”

“Well, good impressions! Oh, by the way, was that golem with you?”

Catra froze, “Uh…. what golem?” the dryad turned and frowned.

“The one… well, I can’t quite tell. I know it’s at the edge of the wood. She didn’t mentioned it, I don’t think.”

“You… you can see her?” Catra stepped forward, her voice urgent. The dryad arched a mossy yellow eyebrow and shrugged.

“Her? You are sure? It’s all… metal. Or it feels like it is. Metal I have only… only seen…” her voiced trailed away as if trying to make a connection, “We need to get you to the camp. I take it  _ she _ isn’t with you?”

“No… not as far as I know. She was chasing us… but… I don’t know why.”

The dryad smirked, “I think you do.”

“Huh?”

“I can sense your aura, it’s all kinds of conflicted. Your energies are all over the place… this metal thing… you’re connected, aren’t you?”

Catra clutched at her arm and shrugged, then looked away, “It’s… complicated,” her head snapped around, “Why am I telling you this? Can she get at us?”

“I have that sort of face,” said the dryad gently, then looked at the rest of Catra’s companions, “And no, she can’t… not unless I let her. So, um, you want to eat?”

Tong Lashur shrugged, “Sounds good. Bayou dryads not as hospitable. More direct. Also, bad tempered.”

“Being constantly damp will do that to you. We don’t have much to do with our… cousins. I can promise you were are MUCH more amenable! All are welcome, with good intent. And YAY! A Princess! I have so much to  _ ask _ you!”

The dryad bee-lined to Scorpia and hauled the big woman to her feet. She linked her arm with the Scorpion woman’s and then practically dragged her off through the trees. The other woodish beings followed, some vanishing into the trees  _ literally _ . Others just seemed to fade into the background, their skin and hair blending with the treeline as if camouflage and then they just were  _ gone _ . The remainder followed the happily chattering dryad.

Catra exchanged a glance with her two remaining companions, shrugged, then hefted her pack and set off after them.

\------------------------

A few minutes walk through dense ferns and down narrow gullies and over bubbling streams led them to a clearing, a good couple hundred yards across. Across the grassy expanse were scattered tents and cooking fires. Catra frowned and looked at their dryad escort, “Who’re these people?”

The dryad smiled, “Wanderers. People seeking to commune with nature. Refugees. All who come in peace are welcomed.”

Scorpia sighed and nodded slowly, “Wow. That’s, uh… that’s quite a gathering you’ve got there. Hey are those Scoprions? OOO! We gotta see what they’re cooking. Hey Catra, have you ever tried rolled louse in honey saute, ‘cos I can smell that from here!”

Catra blinked. She could smell a LOT - cooking meats, fermenting grains, the scent of sweat and  _ other _ signs of bodily exertion. She looked at the dryad, “Just… letting everyone have a great time?”

The creature smiled, “As long as all are peaceful, do not take more than is their due…. This is a place of joy, of peace. Of love.”

Catra muttered under her breath, “Yeah, I can smell it…” louder she addressed Scorpia, “And don’t think we’re  _ done _ . You’ve got some explaining t’do.”

The big woman winced, nodded, then dashed off towards the small band of Scorpions at one of the larger tents. The mix of styles was amazing - squat tents for Shroomers, billowy and airy tents for the Scorpions, ornate pastel tents for the odd Brightmoon native. There were raggedy, fur lined tents from Waster tents and the odd thick furred tent of a Frostan. Those were more yurt-like and were clearly open to ensure the heat didn’t get unbearable. Catra didn’t care for the design, having seen them mainly used as sweat lodges in her time in the north. And, being as she was  _ naturally _ insulated, it struck her as superfluous.

She saw Entrapta gleefully examining one of the dryads that had accompanied them and appeared to be hitting it off, the tall, dark-bark-skinned man clearly fascinated by the attention. Catra turned her attention back to their escort, “So… you never said who you were.”

“OH! How rude. I’m not normally involved in the welcoming… I’m Perfuma, a pleasure. And you?”

Honesty seemed the best policy, “Catra…”

“Well welcome Catra. So, quick welcome - this is our main camp, but we do have enclaves all over the woods. Charcoal burners, hunting camps, that sort of thing. You’ve seen the heart tree, which is, well… mine, Or me, I suppose, if you want to get specific.”

“OHH!” Entrapta was suddenly next to them, “Are you a dual being? Is the tree extant with or without this ambulatory presence. Are you materially contiguous? Despite distance, do you exist in the tree AND here, or is this you and the tree vacant?”

The dryad blinked and Catra grinned, “Yeah… you let her in, you field these questions,” she stepped back and watched, listening with half an ear as the dryad was bounced from topic to topic. Tong Lashur stepped up next to her and peered around, clearly bemused.

“This is… strange. Dryads  _ eat _ flesh. Helps trees grow.”

“Well, yeah… corpses rot, make soil, bonemeal and all that,” the lizard gave her a  _ look _ , “What, I read. And on long sea voyages you can’t be picky about what there is to read. Got an old almanac, gave me some insight. Hell, I know about  _ crop _ rotation.”

“Ugh.  _ agriculture _ .”

“Yeah… so, what’s wrong?”

“These creatures… they hunt, but not to excess. They nurture. They…. _ protect _ . It is strange.”   
  
“Your dryads do not?”

“In the swamps… everything kills. You know this.”

Catra mused and nodded. The plantlife was  _ also _ hostile - plants that ate insects, vines that seemed all to eager to snare, poisonous leaves. The lizards had seemed the biggest threats there, though, “Never met any dryads.”

“Rare. Most trees are short lived, ever falling and regrowing. But in depths of swamp is the  _ old _ wood. The  _ drowned _ wood. It is angry. And  _ hungry _ . They fight for sunlight and for the slurry of meat.”

He trailed off and Catra decided to not pursue the topic. She eyed Scorpia, who seemed to have made a new batch of friends. This collection of Scorpions seemed more at ease with her. For a moment, Catra wondered if it was because they were separate from the Kingdoms, or if they just didn’t recognise Scorpia. Thinking back, the behaviours of the various people around Scorpion Hill made more sense. As well as how easy it’d been to get rooms, get service and  _ not _ get scammed by the merchants.

She’d had a princess in her pocket and not even known it.

“Clearly irritated,” growled the lizard next to her, “Curious, no?”

“Damn right I am,”

“Eh, could be trip of discovery. Or rebellion. Or dramatic renunciation of heritage,” Catra paused and turned an incredulous gaze on the stoic reptile. He met her gaze, then his tongue slightered out and tasted the air, “Either way, hungry. Getting meat that is not lizard tail. Saving that for later.”

“You. Are fucking. Weird.”

The lizard grinned suddenly and shrugged. Then he turned and waddled towards another camp fire. Everyone seemed so damn  _ welcoming. _ But Catra was always on guard. Weaver training never really let you relax. Midnight ambushes in the dorms that’d result in a brutal beating if you didn’t fight it off; random poisons in food to cramp the stomach; friends suddenly turning on you, unwillingly, hexed by a Sister.  She hunched her shoulders and tried to find a defensible position in this wide open space. Her eyes caught movement and she frowned as a small, wizened woman moved into focus from behind a cluster of tents. She had huge, bushy hair and a walking stick that looked more like a broom. Eyes were made large by some sort of lenses on her face.

“C’yra, dearie, so good to see you.”

That name caused a flicker of  _ something _ in her. A deeply uncomfortable feeling, like she’d forgotten something, “Wrong woman, lady.”

The wizened being hobbled closer and peered at her, then sighed, “No… you aren’t looking for Mara, are you? Were you able to stop Hope? What am i saying, yes… yes she did. But now, you are still looking for her, despite not looking, hmmm?”

Catra spread her arms, “Who are you? What do you  _ want _ ?”

The woman stared at her and chuckled, “What else…. A happy ending. And pie. Pie is  _ good _ . Pie helps you think.”

“Ok, you may want to check Thaymor’s  _ specific _ districts if you want an ending like that. Not  _ my _ thing. Thank you…”

She turned to go then froze, “Adora is lost, you know.”

She wheeled around, claws extended but held herself just before her swipe connected, “What?”

The woman hadn’t even flinched. Catra however, now realised there were several bows levelled at her. Perfuma in particular looked  _ very _ annoyed. She stalked over, “I said…  _ no _ . You have no honest intent here, Catra. You are not welcome.”   
  
“Hush child,” murmured the old woman. Perfuma looked at her and frowned, “Can you not recognise pain? You who breathe the wind and shelter those who take their last look at the sky? Do you not see the fear in the eyes? The loneliness?”

Catra swallowed and stumbled back. Around her dryads were lowering their bows, “Stop it. Stop talking. I… I’m not alone.”

The old woman cocked her head, “Surrounded by friends. But missing your soul, no?”

Catra snorted, “You’re wrong. I.. I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Of course, C’yra,” The old woman blinked and smiled broadly, “Oh! Have you found Mara yet? Is it time? Primus will find you, unless you hurry.”

Perfuma looked confused now, even a little worried, “Razz… Primus is… is a myth.”

“Bah! Myths! Dryads are a myth. Magic is a myth! Technology, they say, all flashy and blinking. Psh. Give me an open fire and a clear sky. Technology is a myth. All things are  _ myth _ until you see it. Is Adora here yet? She won’t want to be late, very important.”

Catra gestured at the old woman and fixed Perfuma with a glare. The dryad seemed to have forgotten her anger and sighed, “Razz sometimes… forgets when she is.”

“Um, where, right?”

The dryad laughed, “Oh no… she’s a seer. You get used to it. She told me you’d be here, to meet you. To keep you here for a few days. Said you’ll know when to go.”

Catra ran a hand over her face. The wizened old woman was watching her with a tender smile, “Why does she keep calling me  _ C’yra _ ?”

Perfuma shrugged, “Maybe someone she’s seen that looks like you. A future vision? A magikat legend maybe?”

Catra shook her head, “Not exactly much of our  _ culture _ left to look that up.”

Razz suddenly beamed, “Not yet! All things have been and will be again. But this time, maybe… maybe it will be different. Mara dearie… she helped. She stopped it. But not forever. Primus is gone, but Hope remained. A choice between blinding light and wide-eyed darkness. The Spinners thread the silk that the Weavers wend. They are two sides of the same, despite their words. Do not trust in Hope. Do not trust in  _ destiny _ as it is told. Make your own. Make the choice to stay. This time.”

Catra blinked, “Anything else, oh cryptic one?”

“Just make sure he doesn’t use the big lever.”

“Oh that’s  _ helpful _ .”

Scorpia had sidled up, “Uh, who’s your friend Catra?”

“Not. A. Clue. She knows me. Or my  _ mystical future me _ . Or some legend that looks like me.”

“Well, not surprising Wildcat! Of course a legend’d want to look like you!” Catra noticed Perfuma was watching them closely. Her expression was oddly neutral. Catra felt very self conscious all of a sudden and shrugged away from Scorpia’s claw.

“Oh no. You don’t get to distract me. We need to have  _ words _ . Are we done…. Razz?” she didn’t know why she felt the need to be respectful. There was a strange sense of familiarity to the old lady. Big eyes regarded her and blinked.

“All done Catra. Lovely to see you again. Remember, PIE! I have applesauce just as you like it.”

Catra was half turned away when she stumbled  _ again _ . No one knew that. NO ONE. Not even Scorpia. Only… Adora. Who’d snuck her the pies from the  _ special _ kitchens used by the Sisters. She stared at the woman, who seemed to have forgotten her and was now wandering off again among the tents. She let out a ragged breath, then waved over Entrapta and Tong Lashur. The latter was carrying a whole flank of venison, which he clutched possessively to his chest, not caring about grease stains at all. Catra idly pondered that scales were probably wipe-clean.

“Ok… uh, Perfuma, anywhere we can, y’know… set up?” The dryad nodded and led them to a part of the clearing nearer the edge of the woods. There was an old fire pit there and indents in the grass from where tents had been pitched prior. The dryad waved a hand and a pair of nymph-like women, all bark-skin and grass-hair, carried over some kindling from the woodline, then vanished. 

Catra watched the beings vanish and heaved a sigh. Setting a watch seemed  _ really _ pointless. She turned and set her pack down, then plonked her butt onto a log and mixed Scorpia with a stare. Entrapta quickly set to starting a fire, then moved her own pack to one side. Scorpia busied herself fussing over her sleep mat and ragged out the furs that could be assembled into a rudimentary tent. Catra coughed, “Stop stalling.”

The big woman deflated, then sank onto a log, on the opposite side of the fire from Catra. Perfuma settled down on the same log and smiled at the Scorpion woman, then glanced at Catra. The feline watched the woodland nymph and shrugged, her mind already lost on whatever was going on between the two women.

Tong Lashur thudded down and began tearing into the meat, drool and grease slathering over the soil. Catra edged along the log away from the gory display, “T… slow down. You’ll choke.”

“No. Throat extends. Easy.”

“Ok, never needed to know that. Scorpia, spill. Think you owe me that?”

The big woman tapped her still-setting nose, “Well, yeah…. I do talk about expressing and being honest, I know… so you got me there. But, tit for tat….”

“I told you about  _ Adora _ …”

Scorpia winced, “Yeah… you got me. Not fair of me to… ok, um, this is… hooo this is harder than I thought, hooooo.”

“Hey, it’s ok. Just say ‘I can do this’.”

“Perfuma can do this…” the dryad giggled and Scorpia clapped a claw against her head and grinned sheepishly, “Um, ok, that was… that was  _ realll _ silly. Sheesh! Sorry guys, I’ve got this.  _ Ahem _ so…”

“How’d you know my name?” Perfuma asked, trailing a toe on the ground, her face turned away from the Scorpion woman.

“Oh! The uh, the refugees mentioned it… I knew, kinda, how bad some of the clans have it. It’s really good you’re helping them out. Really lovely family, third clutch apparently!”

“Oh! Of course, silly… well, good you’re making friends….”

“Excuse me? Storytime?” harrumphed Catra. Scorpia blushed and somehow Perfuma’s smooth bark skin seemed to take on a darker hue. The warrior woman licked her lips and nodded, then sat up straight.

“Hello everyone. Um. My name… my real name is  Scorpionoidea de Hottentotta of the Red Claw Dynasty, of the Northern Ranges, Daughter of Arachea de Hottentotta, Ishara de Pandius and Jiroft de Centruroides, Grandaughter of the Wise King Serket.”

Catra blinked and swallowed, “What, no de-whatever for the Wise king?”

Scorpia gave a half smile, “No dynasty for the Overking, Catra. They renounce it…. Makes ‘em all… free of family bonds and loyal to all the Kingdoms, able to call on the Warlords, barons and all that, no biases.”

Catra snorted, “Like that’d work.”

Scorpia shrugged, “It’s done ok for now, Wildcat. Uh, you… you want more?”

The feline splayed her hands on the log and crossed her legs. She cocked her head and nodded, her heterochromatic eyes flickering in the flickering of the newly lit fire, “Go on. This I gotta hear.”

The Warrior woman took a deep breath and clicked her claws nervously, “Well, I guess...I best start at the beginning… hope you don’t mind me rambling Perfuma, not great at stories and…”

Catra groaned, “Get on with it!”

Scorpia frowned and sighed, “Patience is a virtue, Wildcat. For an assassin you really are bad at waiting.”

Perfuma arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Catra chortled and made a gesture that seemed to convey _we'll get to that_ , “Subtle, Scorp. So, get on with it.”

Silence fell and Tong Lashur even paused in his chewing, “Yes, continue. I have said what I think.”

Catra glanced at him, “Two gold on it being a rebellion.”

“Three gold it being discovery.”

Scorpia made an indignant sound, “You… you do not bet on my particularly difficult and awkward background.”

“Yeah we do. Price you pay for not comin’ clean  _ Princess _ .”

“Ok.. ok, fair. You got me, Catra. So. settle in and strap down… this ones a bit of a  _ wild _ ride. Intrigue! Drama!”

Catra half lidded her eyes, “You ran away.”

“Uh…. I ran away,” sagged Scorpia. Then she brightened, “But for a good reason!” Catra rolled her eyes and gestured for her to continue, “So… it was about two years ago…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know... left you hanging on Scorpia there! But how else will I make you come back?!
> 
> Next chapter we'll get some HISTORY. And a bit of insight as to Scorpia being, well... her.
> 
> Also, everyone say hi to Razz, PLOT DISPENSER.


	13. A tale told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpia recounts her history. Catra delves into it.
> 
> An unexpected guest.

“....and that is, uh, basically it in a nutshell.”

The sun had vanished and night had a firm grip. The myriad campfires were still going strong, casting dancing shadows against the trees, giving the clearing the appearance of some sort of ethereal theatre.

Around their particular fire, the group sat and stared. Entrapta was scribbling notes furiously, muttering “ _fascinating”_ under her breath over and over. Perfuma’s eyes were glistening in wonder. Tong Lashur had the cold remnants of his meal halfway to his mouth, suspended and possibly forgotten.

Catra just stared as her brain tried to sort through the _absolute information overload_ she’d just had thrust on her. She coughed, blinked, then raised a hand. It dropped as she frowned, then she raised it again, then looked to one side and pursed her lips. Then she looked at Scorpia dead on.

“What. The. Fuck?”

The Princes smiled sheepishly, “Uh, well… what bit?”

“ _All of it!”_

“I thought it was pretty straightforward…?”

“Oh yes, especially that bit of you versus the seven hundred acolytes of…”

“NO! We are not, I repeat, _not_ letting her repeat that particular incident…”

“And the repeated incursions of the Frostan mercenaries….” Perfuma started again.

Catra ground her teeth, “No more fight scene re-enactments. We get it. She had to fight. A _lot_ . But… I…. _WHY?_ Why are you _HERE_ Scorpia?”

“Weren’t you listening?” she sounded hurt and Catra dragged a hand over her face. She inhaled and counted to ten.

“Yes. I was. It just… it’s so… _complicated_.”

Perfuma snorted and flipped a strand of straw-hair from her eyes, “Seems fairly straightforward. She did what she did for the good of her _people_.”

“And that’s what I don’t _get_ ! She was, what, fighting off assassins every other day! Leave for _self preservation!”_

“Wildcat, it’s not that _simple_.”

“Sure it is! Abdicate! Run! That’s what I was expecting… not… some…”

Tong Lashur rumbled, “Journey for redemption of soul of nation?”

“What he said!”

Scorpia frowned, “You’re just annoyed you lost the bet.”

“YES! NO! Sort of…” she sagged and rubbed her eyes, “Ok, let me just… clarify, ok? Summary, cos this is a lot Scorpia… and I kind of get _why_ you didn’t say… but by the Shadow this is… wow.”

Scorpia nodded and shrugged, “Huh, yeah, I know. When you say it out loud, _phew_ , it’s a tonne to get through,”

“The bardic embellishments were a bit much,” winced Catra,”This ain’t a Thaymor tavern where you’ve gotta perform for you mead.”

“Oh that wasn’t embellishing,” Scorpia’s face was serious. Catra blinked.

“So… you actually _had_ to fight seven hundred acolytes…”

“To prove my worth to succeed the Black Garnet? Yeah, hoo. That was a tough thirteen hours.”

Catra blinked, then looked at Entrapta, then Tong Lashur, then at Perfuma. The dryad had a sort of proud-cum-smug expression on her face. Catra ran a hand through her own hair and blew out, “Ok… And those Frostan mercenaries? The Brightmoon skirmishes? The raids in the Wastes?”

“Yep. All happened. First fight was… when I was twelve, I think? My clutch were sent on a pacification mission to the Dragon Bone canyon. Hoo… twenty men I had to kill. _Not_ pretty. Lost half my siblings, not nice,” there was a cracked sort of tone to her voice and Catra saw the woman’s smile go faintly brittle.

“And the assassinations?”

“Yeah, got two of my uncles, stopped another twelve getting my moms… dad still lost an arm though.”

“Wow, um… so, in summary… your entire social structure beyond the merchant class basically spend their entire time trying to _kill and eat each other_.”

Scorpia nodded, “Yeah not the best system of governance… we’re working on it.”

“ _HOW?!”_

“Um… well. That’s my point, what I’m say. I’m working on it. My moms tried… but they’re not the Overking. They’re not even in line anymore, not with me… as I’m the _last_ of my clutch.”

Catra heaved a sigh. She was basically replaying the last couple of hours. It had sounded so _fantastical_ . And she’d been part of a fair few political _incidents_ herself, “Still struggling on the how, Scorp.”

The big woman shuffled and shrugged, “Basically… it got too much. I’m the _only_ one with a connection to the garnet… our stone? Grandad is still aligned to it, so I get, what, maybe a fifth of the power and that’s… difficult? I’ve never been allowed near it. And I won’t be until I succeed the throne either when Gramps dies…. Or….”

“Or you kill him and fight off the usurpers. Got that. But if they don’t have a connection, isn’t it… moot?”

“Most of the barons don’t _care_. The stone is a symbol to most as our family vowed to never USE the power. Too much danger. It’s how we prevent a major civil war against the unifying House. Whichever family gets a connection to the stone, they have line of succession, cos y’know, kind of all related on some level…”

Catra scrunched her face up, “Yeah that’s kinda screwed up Scorpia, not gonna lie.”

“ _Distantly_ related. Which is why some barons have a connection and are added to the… well the role of succession. And their only way up the chain is by killing off or getting the main line's offspring… killed. As well as rivals ahead of them in the… queue.”

Perfuma giggled but looked guilty, “Sorry… sounds like a market stall rather than _rulership_.”

Scorpia shrugged, “Yeah, well… We were doing quite well. My gramps, he’s fought off so many attempts things have been peaceful. Stable. Just minor fights between the bigger clans, or the ones at the bottom of the pile. Just the people who suffer, though. _Anyway_ … suddenly there’s this uneasiness, Brightmoon started getting annoyed with smuggling, someone hired those mercenaries to raid out coastal villages, we had some raiders from the south _and_ an increase in rogue golem attacks…”

Catra nodded slowly, “Sounds like people got _annoyed_ with not having a slice of the pie.”

Scorpia grimaced, “Yeah. And they do like pie…. Also ruling. It’s bad enough that the direct family line… we’re basically _tested_ day one. Mentally, physically… we got put through the ringers. All my aunts and uncles, their kids… we were all just trained, tutored. To survive. Don’t get me wrong, it was a nice life in the palace… like I said. But as soon as any _one_ of us started to show connection, we were targets. Even in that period of calm.”

The group shuffled. Scorpia had rattled through this bit, clearly uncomfortable and had focused on her adventures in the two years. Summarised it as “Didn’t like being heir, didn’t want the risk, didn’t like the politics, wasn’t ready, so ran. Because I want to be _better_. And I can save my people by not being there, maybe.”

But Catra didn’t buy it. Didn’t believe that was _it_ . She got the self preservation, like she’d said. But that last bit? “You said they’d just find the next in line? The heirs from the other houses… since you’re _gone_ won’t they try that?”

Scorpia shook her head, “Nope. Uh uh. No dice. While I’m alive, my link… well it stops any new, stronger links being made. If Gramps goes down, a new heir can’t bond, not without some _major_ magical help. And I’d _know_ … and the garnet _wants_ to bond with me. I can feel that. So it won’t let that happen either. Frankly, uh… the effort’d probably backfire. I have to _not want_ to be bonded… or give them permission? I think?”

“But you _don’t_ want to. You just said that?”

Scorpia scratched the back of her neck, “Like… maybe I do? Right now this is… this is me trying to work out a better _way_.”

Catra turned to Tong Lashur and groaned. He chuckled, “As said. DISCOVERY!”

“Shut _up_. Ok, so, what? You’re, what, the last? You said that, right?”

Scorpia nodded and sniffed, “Last with a strong connection. Rest of my clutch are… gone. My moms… it broke them. Had two brothers and a sister. All dead now. Because this stupid _stupid_ system says they have to prove themselves, or they’re valid… targets.”

Perfuma shuffled along the log and wrapped her arms around the trembling warrior. Catra swallowed, suddenly aware of the fire. She stared into it. That hadn’t really come up in the _epic telling_ , “So… basically your whole system of government is… everyone fights as subtly as possible to get in line?”

“Yep. hooo, wasn’t… wasn’t expecting to get this,... whooo. Anyway, yeah, closest in line has to do these trials. Some of it’s like a pilgrimage to some temples in the Waste. And then there’s the seven hundred…. Well we went over that. It helps you focus your connection to the garnet… Only a few of us did it, some of the other heirs… they got _eliminated_ early on though.”

Catra blinked, “When you say eliminated…”

Scorpia nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

“OOO-KAY! You Scorpions don’t play nice do you? So all those guys in the market, everyone?”

“They know who I am. _What_ I am.”

“And… they haven’t tried to drag you back to the palace?”

Scorpia grinned sadly, “They know I tackled the seven hundred… who were permitted to kill me, but I wasn’t allowed to do lasting damage to… they know what I can do. Catra, would _you_ take on someone with that rep?”

Catra shrugged and grinned, “Please refer to the last few days?”

Scorpia laughed, a proper belly laugh. Perfuma was still cloyingly close. The big woman didn’t seem to nice or mind, “Oh that’s a good point! Hah! Anyway there’s a bounty on me, but it’s… token? Because the families don’t want to be _obvious_ . And Gramps has put the word out that anyone touches me they’ll be broiled. Awww, do love my gramps,” Scorpia softened and sighed, “He tried to change it… the overking is a mediating force buuut… even he has constraints. And… you don’t get to fix much. I don’t want that, don’t want to be chained to a throne unless I can _do_ something… beyond just settling quarrels over land or who killed whose extended family member.”

Catra nodded slowly, “Lotta effort to basically live it up. But why not, just, kill the barons causing the issues?”

The re princess snorted, “That’s a _lot_ of killing Catra. And it’d have to be whole families, down to retainers. Maybe even loyal _villages_ . And That… that’s something the _old guard_ did. Salting the earth… why do you think the Crimson Wastes are the Crimson Wastes?”

That caught her off guard - it wasn't something she considered, all the _ancient_ history. Contemporary was her main focus. Catra blinked, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Scorpion Empire basically had a slash and burn policy on _disloyalty_ . This system is crappy but it’s a whole lot more reliable for keeping the peace and casualties down… but it’s awful for letting wealth help people. The barons don’t do much for their territories, don’t expand, don’t really _build_. They just… exist. And the Overking adjudicates and keeps them from going too far. Until it’s time for a new Overking, then we get close. Me being away…. It keeps the peace. But it does mean I’m not home… protecting my moms. My dad. Gramps.”

“Can’t they, like, fight? You said you got tutored from, what... five?”

Scorpia chuckled, “Have you seen me, Wildcat? I mean, my moms are fine… but my dad, he’s… he’s an archaeologist. Love him, but that man. He’s got ONE ARM Catra! ONE! A stiff breeze… yeah he got trained but it didn't stick. And I've been fighting since... well since I was twelve, properly I mean.“

“But why would they…?”

Scorpia shrugged, “Potential for a connection, maybe? Killing them might kill my Gramps, grief and all that. Or it’d lure me out. But, this way, they’re probably spending more time trying to hunt me down. The palace is a nightmare to infiltrate, maybe a Weaver could do it… but the families will want me, probably alive, to get me to _give_ the connection over. Right now… I think killing my family would make me less likely to do it, but you never know. Some of my cousins are... _nasty_.”

Catra looked at Scorpia. She couldn’t imagine anyone _like_ Scorpia being nasty. But then again she’d watched this woman make short work of a cohort of bandits like it was _nothing_ . Seen her dice Brightmoon _elites_ like they were an inconvenience. And she wondered if even _she_ could take Scorpia down.

There was a thought she didn’t want to consider. She heaved a sigh and nodded, “Fair point. So, what, after all this you’re being _bait_? To keep your family alive? And to, what, learn the noble ways of banditry?” She gave a half grin and snorted. Scorpia shrugged.

“Sort of? I was wandering the roads, picking up… bits and pieces, I guess? Seeing how things worked outside a dojo, a fighting yard, or a tournament. Seeing it _raw_ y’know. We’re kept fairly isolated while we train. Only meet senior officials, merchants, y’know? So, this means I can _learn_ . Maybe make some connections. Maybe… maybe go back with ideas on what to do _better_.”

Catra stared at her, “By helping me _nearly kidnap a princess._ Scorpia, your long term planning needs _work_.”

Scorpia shrugged again, “But we DIDN’T capture her, so problem solved.”

Across the fire, Entrapta perked up, “So, the Scorpion Kingdoms exhibit a disproportionate amount of low level political rambunctious activity, compared to other, more unified territories, yet are still able to provide a united front in engaging with other world powers? What’s the military structure? Are the Kingdoms vassal states or equivalent baronies forming a council? How many Scorpions in a clutch?”

“Entrapta, _breathe_ ,” groaned Catra. The purple haired girl clammed up and nodded. Scorpia blinked and then grinned.

“I’ll tell you later, ‘Trapta.”

“GOODIE!”

The cat girl shook her head, “So, why bother being incognito? If the Scorpions all know…?”

“They won’t tell. We fight, we stab in the back… but that’s _each other_. They wouldn’t tell a… non Scorpion. We don’t trust outsiders easily. Too much bad history. Being judged. Being seen as the bad guys, y’know?”

Catra shuffled her feet and nodded, “I guess…”

“Anyway, my people… they don’t talk. Maybe they mention it to a baron’s man? But most likely they won’t. No love lost there. The Overking and the garnet… we _stopped_ the fighting that just…. Killed so many. So, yeah. But I can’t go back, not yet. Not until I work out what to _do_ . What I _can_ do.” Scorpia looked into the flames, “I don’t,... I won’t have my kids…. Won’t have them live like this. Trials and fear and _death_ so a few families can fight over dirt and people _starve_ for that privilege. There’s gotta be a better way. Something that won’t end up with us as part of Brightmoon’s vassal states or Frostan raids.”

Catra watched the woman in front of her. A woman who could turn a battlefield into a dance, who seemed to have a heart fit to burst. She nodded slowly, “So you didn’t trust me to, what… rat you out?”

Scorpia looked up at her and shrugged, “Never seemed the right time. Look at this… what could I do to open _that_ conversation?”

The feline huffed, “Got me drunk first?”

The scorpion princess guffawed, “Yeah, that’d be a hell of a pickup line,” then she blushed. The dryad looked askance at Catra then and the tension in the air ratcheted up. Catra coughed, “Yeah you’re cute and all Scorp… but I don’t go for royalty.”

For some reason, she felt the need to _wink_ at the dryad. Perfuma regarded her then smiled faintly. Scorpia didn’t seem to notice. She stared into the flames and glared at them, “We’re dying, Catra… my kingdom. It’s… you’ve seen Scorpion Hill. I know I said we didn’t salt the earth but… the garnet’s the only thing keeping stuff going. The barons want _more_ but only a few _do_ anything. Most just sell their troops as mercs, or raid and smuggle. Tithing farmers with nothing, or sending people to mine in the wastes… gramps has tried… but I can’t take the throne, take on that and watch us…. Watch us die. I need to know we can be _more_ again. Not, y’know… conquering. That’s a _baaaad_ idea. But just be… better? Stronger? I don’t know. I guess I was hoping that walking the earth would solve my problems? Get me out of the palace, get me away from the politics.But just seems everywhere is as bad. Just has nicer trees.”

She looked around the glade wistfully. Perfuma leaned into her eye-line, “It’s not all bad. You’re _trying_. That’s a start. I have faith you’ll find what you need.”

Catra leaned back and looked up at the stars, mostly to hide her grin. The dryad was as subtle as a brick. Unfortunately, Scorpia was as observant as a brick at times.

“Oh, yeah. That’s kind. I mean, this is a great place too, sorry I’m being all downer here.”

“No, it’s good. And, maybe I can help? Princess to Princess?”

“Really? I mean, I’ve tried bandits, mercenary stuff, helping merchants… but never really gone _through_ the actual issues, y’know, tried to think about it. Apply their ideas onto my views, y’know. It’s _hard_. So many moving parts! Like, can you equate trading furs to running a whole load of fighting barons? Yeah, rival merchants ina guild but the scale and….”

Catra tuned the two women out. She glanced at Tong Lashur, but the reptile appeared to have collapsed again, sleeping heavily. Entrapta was nose deep in her journal.

“Perfuma! THERE you are, we’ve been looking _everywhere_ . Not at your tree and the scouts were _useless_! Where… have… you…”

Catra frowned. The voice was… familiar. She lolled her head back further and looked at an approaching pair of figures who had emerged from behind a set of tents.

She saw purple and pink robes. Sparkling purple hair. A staff. A man with cropped armour and a bow.

 _You have to be fucking kidding_.

The two women stared at each other. Catra swivelled and was on her feet. They levelled fingers at each other: “YOU?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one than normal - wanted to stretch it out, but also wanted to avoid a flashback. Just conversation and interrogation.
> 
> Hoping the next chapter will be easier. This one I struggled with - had the IDEAS but nothing quite GELLED. Wanted to show Scorpia has run away, but also has a grander idea. And also that the Scorpions are COMPLICATED (Think Dune levels of political machinations mixed with Afghan warlords)


	14. Words are the measure of a man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if looks could kill - Catra and Glimmer would likely be red mist.
> 
> Truths are revealed, plans begin to form.
> 
> A time of reflection, contemplation

The purple Princess stared at her. Catra stared back, now on her feet and tensed.

“What… why…  _ how?” _ seethed the Princess. Catra smirked, mostly out of nervousness. He gaze flicked to Perfuma.

“Setting us up, flower girl?”

The Dryad frowned at her, then looked at the Sparkling mage, then to the Princess’ companion. Catra recognised the Archer - the man had his bow out and an arrow nocked, but he hadn’t draw the string. That impressed her - he had his weapon ready  _ fast _ . Of course, at this range it was possibly a poor choice. Possibly. The guy had tricks, after all. Maybe an arrow that would explode glue all over her; or flames; or make her start dancing some courtly dance because of  _ reasons _ .

The cat girl breathed carefully. She kept her claws sheathed and hands away from the blades at her belt. The Princess didn’t seem to realise the need for caution - motes of glittering light coalesced around her hands, whilst flickering discs or raw magic flickered to life intermittently over her palms. With a grin, Catra noted that the archer seemed the more aware of the pair. She watched him lick his lips and removed the arrow from his bow.

“Uh… Glimmer.”

“Bow, we need to take her.. .and her friends. We can do this.”

“Glimmer….”

The Princess flexed her fingers, clearly waiting to see Catra move first. An interesting strategy - she was either very confident in her abilities to counter whatever Catra could throw at her, ridiculously overconfident or… just really bad at fighting, “You, anything you want to say for yourself…?”

Catra’s smirk shifted from nervous reaction to genuine amusement, “Uh… just, maybe… read the room?”

Glimmer blinked and frowned. Then the Archer - Bow, apparently.  _ Seriously? _ \- gripped her shoulder and yanked her around to face him. She startled and the magic fizzled away.  _ Interesting _ , noted Catra,  _ no good at magic if she can’t focus _ . She watched as the Princess glared at her companion then seemed to take in their surroundings.

Twenty Dryads. Bows drawn. Levelled at her. Glimmer startled and looked at Perfuma in shock, “You… you draw on  _ me _ ?”

The Dryad leader met her gaze, “This is a place of peace, Glimmer. You know that.”

“SHE!” Glimmer levelled a finger at Catra, “Tried to  _ kidnap _ me. Killed fifteen of our soldiers! Left another dozen or more wounded!”

“Hey i’m good, not  _ that _ good… but can I get that in writing?” drawled Catra. Glimmer shot her a glare. Tong Lashur nodded slowly.

“Yes, reputation important.”

The Princess goggled, genuinely shocked, “It talks?”

The reptile blinked slowly and rose, carefully brushing soil from his knees, “Ah, famous Brightmoon tolerance in the flesh,” he snarled, “Not think we are worthy of  _ discourse _ when you plunder plants from swamps, turn away envoys or feel we dirty streets.”

“You EAT PEOPLE!” shrieked Glimmer. Tong Lashur shrugged.

“You let flesh rot in ground, not even for your  _ agriculture _ . Mausoleum to bones. Fetishise corpses as if still living. Do not honour memory of fallen  _ properly _ ! Barbarians! My people bring you  _ honour _ . Respect for valiant foes! Equals in battle, deserving of veneration!”

He slapped his chest and Catra arched an eyebrow and folded her arms, “Hey, T… laying it on a bit thick, there.”

The reptile, who had raised himself up to a staggering seven foot tall, sagged a little then grinned broadly, “Eh. Sparkly tiny thing is annoying.”

“No arguments there.”

“I’m RIGHT HERE! And… Perfuma!”

“They have not caused issues here, Glimmer. Your quarrel with them needs to be taken up beyond our borders.”

Glimmer levelled a finger at Perfuma now, “You are harbouring  _ assassins _ and  _ kidnappers _ . Enemies of  _ Brightmoon _ .”

Scorpia stood and moved forward a little, almost between Perfuma and the raging Princess, “Hey now, no need to get antsy here, we’re just having a nice time by the fire, telling stories, making friends.”

“She threw a KNIFE INTO MY LEG!” squealed Glimmer, her arms flung up in frustration. The muscular woman winced.

“Yeah… yeah she does that, I know,” Catra shot her a look that said:  _ REALLY?  _ Scorpia shrugged, then turned back to Glimmer, “Anyhoo, we, uh… we parted ways with the guilty party so, no harm done in the long run?”

Glimmer stared at the Scorpion, “Should’ve expected that sort of attitude from a scor-”

Bow clamped a hand over the Princess’ mouth and shook his head, then gave a weak smile to the towering, growing form of Scorpia, “You see why we may be… um… sceptical? And Perfuma, you see Glimmer’s point? A few days ago, these… four nearly killed us.”

Tong Lashur snorted, “Worst mistake I make. Lost whole warband. Poor exchange,” he fished a strip of meat from his pouch and paused, then offered it to the Princess, “Want some? Will fortify. Make strong. Exchange for warriors lost?”

Glimmer’s eyes boggled and Catra stepped up, “Wouldn’t do that Sparkles. Unless you like… lizard?”

The Princess blanched. So did Bow, “He’s…. Eating… lizard?” mouthed the Archer. Catra shrugged.

“Long list of religious reasons, all that stuff about venerating the fallen and all that? Taking on their strength? Yeah. Don’t worry, Tong here won’t get that offended. Unless you assume he’s a dumb animal.”

Tong Lashur shrugged, “Am animal. Also veritable wit. Studied poetry, have you know.”

Glimmer, for her part, looked outflanked and overwhelmed. Around them the dryads had lowered their weapons and had seemingly vanished back into the background. Perfuma still watched Glimmer carefully, “As you can see, they are doing no harm  _ now _ . And they know the consequences. Much as your mother knows the consequences if she tries to assert herself her  _ again _ , Glimmer.”

At that, the purple Princess seemed to blanche further. She nodded and looked around, “Well, it seems… we’re not  _ welcome _ .”

Perfuma sighed, “Sit down, eat. I know you’ve been walking for hours. I assume you’ve shaked your guards?”

Glimmer looked on the verge of storming away but a glance from Bow made her relax slightly. The purple-haired royal glared at Catra and took a seat opposite her across the flames. Scorpia watched the Princess for a moment, face a blank mask - never a good sign. Glimmer’s near-insult had scored a mark, it seemed. Catra was angry on her behalf. She also had an underlying level of irritation for  _ other _ reasons. Personal reasons. Associated with blond hair and grey-blue eyes.

Bow heaved a sigh and frowned at Catra, “So, since we’re here… seems a chance to maybe get something useful out of the situation. Why’d you attack us?”

Catra stared at him and blinked, “Wow. You do  _ not _ do subtle do you?”

He shrugged, “Why bother? I think we’ve gotten to know each other quite well in one way. But I do like knowing things. And since we’re not fighting, why not talk?”

She considered being obtuse, antagonistic. Maybe force the Princess into a fight. But she reigned that in - why’d she want to? However, she wasn’t going to make it easy on them, “If I don’t say, what? You gonna sick your prize fighter on me?”

Glimmer glared at her, “That’s a point. Why aren’t you  _ dead _ . She nev….  _ She Ra _ never fails at killing something….”

That caught her. That made her temper flare slightly. Adora being referred to as… what? A tool? The thing Catra had sworn  _ not _ to be? To hear her friend, her  _ oldest _ friend even remotely considered like that? “What did you do to her?”

Bow and Glimmer blinked in sudden surprise. Glimmer had a momentary look of triumph on her face as realisation dawned, “You… you know her?”

She cursed internally - that was a slip. But she leaned into and rested her elbows on her knees, “Yeah. Do  _ you _ ?”

The Princess twitched and then looked away, “We...we’re friends.”

“Or is she someone you use to solve your problems? Kill people you want removed? Like most royals? Don’t get your hands dirty?”

Bow opened his mouth but Glimmer snarled and glared across the campfire, “Funny, coming from a  _ Weaver _ .”

Catra shrugged, “Weavers do as they’re asked,”  _ A technical lie _ , “Usually by your and yours. And I’m  _ not _ a Weaver. Not anymore.”

“What, you fail a mission and they kick you out?”

“Actually she hasn’t been a Weaver for several years. I can give you the precise breakdown in minutes if you’d like, based on my monitoring of various conversations. Also we have rather forcefully severed our association with that particular political body… um, I just realise we did that  _ literally _ too. Is that funny? I’m not sure,” everyone turned to look at Entrapta, who was still engrossed in her notebook, having seemingly ignored the entire conversation. She looked up, mildly surprised at the silence, “Was that the wrong thing to say?”

Catra couldn’t help but snort. Bow blinked and then saw her book, “Hey, um… are.. .are those  _ your _ designs?”

“BOW! Fraternising with the ENEMY!” hissed Glimmer. The Archer gave her a sceptical look.

“Really Glim? You’re passing this chance up? You’re the one always going on about being more  _ responsible _ and  _ special missions _ . What is this if not the  _ perfect _ opportunity!”

The cat-girl leaned back, “Y’know it kinda gives the game away if you announce your cunning plan to the people around you?”

Bow pinched the bridge of his nose and waved at her, “Yes, fine but… look, bad things have happened. I want to know why and  _ oh by the Hope is that a triple gear mechanism?!” _

The man was suddenly squatting by a surprised looking Entrapta as he fired a million and one questions at her over her sketchbook. Soon the pair were lost in a keen back and forth. Glimmer stared, her face one of shock and confusion. For a moment, Catra felt a twinge of pity. She remembered the feeling of isolation. But then, this was the girl who seemed to have her oldest friend on a  _ leash _ .

Scorpia took that moment to stand and approach the girl. She frowned down at the Princess, “So, why don’t you like Scorpions?”

Glimmer blinked, “Uh, well.. Um. We’ve, uh… Smugglers! Yeah, Scorpion smuggling slaves and…”

“The Kingdoms outlawed slavery. Admittedly because it’s impractical. Some fringe states use indentured servitude for debt payments but the Overking set hard limits. We do _not_ smuggle people, kidnap your citizens and, frankly, it's _offensive_ you think that.”

Glimmer recoiled and raised a hand, “I…. did not know that.”

Scorpia nodded, “Also, Brightmoon has made several incursions into our territory over the past five years under the pretence of pursuing criminals. And most recently, forced a detachment of troops into Scorpion Hill.”

The Purple haired princess nodded slowly, “Well… because .. I was attacked! They were checking for fugitives… in the  _ right place _ lit sounds like!”

Scorpia kept her frown steady, “And I bet no threats to the local lord were involved at all? Using your golem to intimate my people? Marching your silver cloaked troops through  _ my _ Kingdom… The Scorpion Kingdom, I mean.”

Catra suppressed a groan. The red-carapaced woman was not built for this, clearly. But as she watched, Glimmer fidgeted uneasily, “They... they needed to track down my assassins!”

“And what if they’d gotten rough, hm? Or those Scorpion troops hadn’t  _ wanted _ to accommodate them, because of all that overbearing…”

Perfuma was next to Scorpia now, her arm on the bigger woman’s shoulder, “I think maybe a walk? Before…”

Scorpia nodded sharply, then heaved a sigh. She looked down into the faintly defiant face of Glimmer, “You look at me, you see a brigand. A monster. Just  _ the muscle _ . I get that. Just like when I look at you, I see someone who doesn’t  _ know _ people. Who thinks it’s all palaces and fun and marble halls Telling people what to do, seeing them as  _ things _ .. But maybe… maybe there’s more to it than that, y’know? Maybe there’s more to you as well?”

With that, the dryad led the Scorpion Princess away. Glimmer watched them go and Catra saw the ghost of guilt trace across the Princess’ face. She saw Catra watching her and folded her arms, “What, sizing me up for a slit throat? Finish the job now Perfuma’s distracted by your girlfriend?”

Catra sighed, the fight suddenly gone, “Not my girlfriend, Sparkles.”

“Stop calling me that,”

“What, as if Glimmer’s any better? And  _ no _ . Got my gold. And we made sure the person who wanted you… got hers. So, you’ve got time before the Weavers send out their next round of collectors. You’re  _ welcome _ .”

Glimmer stared at her, “What?”

“Oh, yeah… you probably haven’t spoken to your tame murder-machine. We killed Octavia. Oh, wait you don’t know her. Anyway…”

“She stabbed me in gut, left for dead,” rumbled Tong Lashur, who had returned to his seat on the mossy ground. His gaze was locked on the flames, “All clan, wanted gold. Seemed good deal. Snatch whingey Princess, gain good meat from noble warriors, get good  _ fight _ . Lost all. Shaman dead. Brothers dead. Sisters  _ dead _ . Make me stronger. But not hear their song again.”

Glimmer swallowed but glared at him, “You expect me to feel sorry? You killed my guards, tried to turn me over to the Weavers for Hope knows what reasons.”

Catra sighed and shrugged. Tong Lashur nodded, “She has good point. We have no moral high ground.”

“Ugh I hate it when you’re philosophical.”

“Must hate me a lot.”

Catra shoved the big reptile’s shoulder. He didn’t move, “ _ Loads _ . And, yeah…. Bad deal. Knew it was. But, needed the gold and, with our lifestyle… money is money. Live by the sword and all that.”

Glimmer stared at her, “So, for enough gold you’d do  _ anything _ ?”

They regarded one another and Catra gave a half shrug, “Not quite. I’ve done a  _ lot _ of questionable things, Sparkles. As I said, mainly because we were asked to by people like  _ you _ . Or people in your position. To your kind, the world’s a big chess game. I was a pawn. Now I’m off the board.”

“That was…. Kind of poetic,” murmured Glimmer, “So, what  _ did _ the Weavers want with me?

She sounded genuinely curious, if a bit cautious. Maybe Bow’s words had sunk in. Maybe she was still distracted by Scorpia’s sudden focus. Catra shrugged, “Not sure. Do know Octavia was scared shitless of Ado….of  _ She Ra.” _

The anger was back. Why was she being  _ nice _ to this spoiled rich girl? Making  _ friends _ ? Glimmer watched her and seemed to come to be mulling a thought over.. She cocked her head to one side, “So you helped people you seem to not trust for gold, to do something you don’t really care about?”

“Uh yeah… not many jobs paying well. Hand to mouth existence out here. We don’t all have silver platters. Weapon and gear maintenance, food and board. All mounts up.”

“Take up a… a trade then!”

Catra snorted, “What? Dress making? Not exactly trained in that.”

“Apprentice then! Do something that isn’t…. Kidnapping people to be tortured or… or...”

She leveled her blue and gold eyes at the Princess, “That easy, huh? With what  _ credentials _ ? Most trades are  _ familial _ . I don’t do well with authority, so no military’d bother with me. Not exactly built for smithing and  _ by the Shadow _ is it boring. Also, what, scrounge for the money to get into a trade guild? Not that easy Princess. Or do you not know how many vagabonds your kingdom has?”

Glimmer puffed, “Brightmoon cares about its citizens!”

“Maybe it does. But what do you  _ know _ about them? Aren’t you supposed to be in Thaymor doing just that? Learning?”

Glimmer blinked, “Wh- how’d you know that?”

“Well, first off, big royal tour, whhoooooo - kinda common knowledge. Second, I’m an  _ assassin _ . We operate on intelligence. Part of my  _ briefing _ . What, you think we just happened to be in that neck of the woods by chance? Took an opportunity?”

Glimmer heaved a frustrated sigh that was a growl, “You are… ugh! So, a mercenary. It seems so… dishonourable.”

Catra shrugged, “You do what you gotta do. Not lie warfare is all pretty duelling and writing ballads. Anyway,” she scuffed her feet on the grass and stared at the fire for a moment, “It was this or… well, I don’t like being  _ under _ anyone, shall we say. Haven’t the patience to fake my enthusiasm  _ that _ much.”

The Princess reddened and opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nodded slowly and smirked, “Fair point. I can imagine you’d be quite… catty?”

Tong Lashur chortled and Catra bared her teeth, “You’re doing so well on the non-human tolerance, Sparkles.”

“Part fae - I get a pass,” shrugged the Princess.

Well  _ that _ was interesting. And made the girl a whole different category of threat. Maybe not  _ now _ , but when she hit her maturity spike. Catra shifted on the log and eyed the girl, “Not how it works, Princess. And won’t make you many friends out here if you look like someone pissed in your soup ‘cos they  _ look _ different. Friendly bit of advice,” and here she leaned forward, “Build a bridge and get the fuck over it. ‘Cos you’ve got the  _ Weavers _ after you. I was you, I’d stick to  _ Adora _ like glue. She’ll keep you alive.”

Glimmer stared at her, chest heaving with something approaching anger or irritation. Then she subsided, “How do you  _ know _ her… I barely… I mean… we’re…”

That caught Catra’s interest, but she pretended to not care, “Way back… lost touch. Until… you did  _ something to her. _ ”

Glimmer fixed her with a solid, unmoving stare, “I didn’t do  _ anything _ to her. She’s… she’s my friend. She was a Weaver… wasn’t she?”

Catra couldn’t help but frown, her irritation, her anger reigned in for a moment, “What, you didn’t know?” Glimmer looked to be deciding something again, face averted from Catra’s. Maybe wondering whether to lord this information over her, or to maybe be honest? Suddenly the cat girl was  _ very _ invested in being nice to the Princess, “If it helps… I can tell you what to expect the Weaver’s to try next.”

The Princess looked at her and seemed to come to a decision, “The Light of Hope sent her to Brightmoon a few months ago. Presented her to my mother as their foremost Champion, as a bodyguard to our household. To ensure the Shadow would never darken our door, or something. We… we became friends. I think. She’s barely ever out of that armour, though.”

“So she does take it off? Thought she was…. Was welded in there,” something like relief passed over Catra and she released a breath she’d been holding. She swallowed and looked at Glimmer. When she spoke, it was quietly, “How is she?”

The Princess met her gaze and saw  _ something _ in her eyes. She seemed to soften, “She’s… happy, I think? But distant. She tends to be on duty all the time and… when she’s not in the armour, when she’s just trying to not be  _ She Ra _ she seems a bit, I don’t know… distracted?” she looked at catra, with a faint frown, “Why am i telling you this?”

Catra swallowed. Her normal reaction would be to snark, to needle. To deflect and maybe go back to being bored in the corner. But this was the closest she’d gotten to an unresolved thread from her past. A string to something she’d thought lost. That had left her alone in damp and dark cloisters, to weather lonely years.

She wasn’t a complete fool - some actions only hurt yourself. Failure to bandage a wound, to treat a blister… no amount of disdain or sarcasm made that go away. Same with the soul. Wasn’t that what the Weavers had said? What the Sisters always drilled into her? Emotions were a tool, but needed to be maintained, like any part of the self. When known and controlled, they could be mastered.

_ Fear is a weapon. Hope is a crutch. Knowledge is power. Master these things and you control your opponent. To harden your heart is to make it brittle. Understand them so as to see them and let them not be your master. Cast out the Shadows within, so as to cast others into theirs. _

Catra sighed and gave a crooked smile, “Because maybe it gives you a one up on me? Or maybe it’s what we have in common? And… maybe you’d be doing me a favour. Not that you owe me one.”

It was part emotional manipulation, part truth. Glimmer probably saw through it - she gave the girl that much credit. The Princess nodded slowly, then snorted,  _ “Whatever. Anyway,  _ we talk, but seems I’m the one telling stories. Hers…. Hers just taper off. When she’s in the armour, with her sword, it’s just… so forceful. No nonsense. When she’s out of it, she’s… I don’t know, a bit of an airhead? But she likes  _ doing _ things. Going and seeing things. She’s fascinated with food.”

Catra chuckled, “Yeah, that’s Adora. Never could stop her in the pantry…” A truce seemed to have formed, tenuous. Catra stared at the flames for a moment, “So… why are you here? We’re, well… we’re running. That’s kinda obvious. But you?”

Glimmer eyed her and nodded, “Same, really. Thaymor was… well a panic after your little attack,”

“Little! Some of my best work! Sorry, sorry… uh… you guard captain. Is she…?” Catra felt very awkward suddenly. Glimmer’s face froze then she tilted her head, “She’s… fine. Got her treated. Pissed as anything. I don’t think you’ll want to meet her any time soon.”

“‘S fair. So, anyway,”

“Yeah... _ hem _ so, supposed to be on this tour, except they stick me into the Mayor’s little keep and lock me down, basically. Won’t even allow me to interact with the public or functions. And what’s a better target for an assassin?” Glimmer splayed her hands.

“Not so tactically dumb after all… yeah, static is  _ bad _ . Why here?”

“Perfuma’s good at seeing things. You may have noticed?”

“Dryad is scary as all things,” muttered Tong Lashur, “Glad has not eaten me.”

Glimmer stared at him, “Do they do that?”

“At home… yes,” grumbled the lizard, “Here… not sure yet. Could be clever trick to lure in. All friendly happy then  _ bang _ . Strangling root and deadly thorns with extra sharp sticks. Have seen it happen. Swam very fast that day.”

The princess arched an eyebrow at Catra who shrugged, “Never visit the swamps.  _ Ever _ . That’s my take away from all my talks with him.”

“Scratch that off the royal tour list, then,” muttered the Princess. She watched Catra and frowned, “I’m still… annoyed with you.”

Catra mused and shrugged, “Fair, again. Tried to kidnap you for gold. Killed some of your troops. Your troops killed his men. Adora nearly killed me.”

“But she recognised you. But hasn’t  _ mentioned _ you. Why?”

Catra turned her face away, “Ask  _ her _ . She tried chasing us down before we got here. Maybe finish the job?”

“No, I mean she didn’t even mention you  _ after _ the fight. After she… spared you.”

So… had She Ra been looking for them in Scorpion Hill? Had she know she was chasing Catra at all? It still unnerved her. Adora was alive and  _ hadn’t _ come back for her? But then again, the _ Hopers _ had had her. What had they done? It was all  _ so much _ , “She’s out there… why hasn’t she come here?”

It was Glimmer’s turn to stare into the flames, “The woods are weird to her. She visits part of them. Followed her once. There’s a Hope temple out here, somewhere, never found it. She just seemed to vanish. But she doesn’t  _ like _ the woods.”

Catra nodded slowly and felt inclined to share all of a sudden, “Perfuma couldn’t tell if she was human. Thought she was a golem.”

The Princes sighed, “That… yeah I can see that. Her armour is… none of our smiths can match it. Our magic barely sees her. It’s like… she’s not  _ there _ The person inside. It….” Glimmer wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, “It actually scares me a bit.”

The girl looked so vulnerable then. Bow glanced up from his conversation and frowned. Catra blinked in surprise, then coughed. She was worried now, “So, um… you aren’t gonna call her? Get her to kick my ass?”

She didn’t know why she said it. Some attempt to lighten the mood, maybe. It seemed to work. The Princess smirked and relaxed, “Tempting…”

“Pssh. Just ‘cos you couldn’t do it yourself,” she grinned at the girl, but added a wink. Glimmer snorted.

“Fine, rematch. At some point.”

Catra nodded, “Sounds good. Might be good to work out the… issues. And,uhm… for what it’s worth,” she scratched the back of her neck and sighed, “I’m… yeah, it sucks your people… they died. I tried to  _ not _ kill as many as I could. We all did.”

“My people did not.”

“Not  _ helping _ Tong…”

“Oh. Thought we were being honest,” the lizard shrugged and lay down, stomach towards the flames. Catra shook her head, then glanced at Glimmer. The girl looked serious for a moment and nodded.

“I… can accept that. I can’t forgive it. I have to see their families, have to explain. You don’t.”

Catra blew out a breath, “No… no I don’t. But, if it’s any consolation, Octavia is dead. She planned it.”

They lapsed into silence. Scorpia and Perfuma returned shortly after, the bigger woman looking faintly flushed and Perfuma looking faintly  _ smug _ for some reason. Entrapta and Bow were still deep into it, having spread out several pieces of parchment across the floor. Perfuma and Glimmer stepped away to have a conversation and Catra relaxed. She laid out her roll mat next to the fire and lay down. Slowly, she drifted off, her usual caution gone. She felt  _ safe _ here. Perhaps for the first time in years she didn’t have to sleep with an ear twitching. It was a deep-in-the-bone knowledge.

  
  


\--------

Her sleep was deep and dark. Only one image flickered through her mind - grey-blue eyes behind a barred visor. A voice crying out.

_ They said you were dead _ .

_ Said you’d tried to save me. _

_ You’d fallen. That they’d tried to save you. _

_ Stay away. Please. Stay away. _

  
  


\-------

She jolted awake and inhaled heavily. Around here was the sound of a camp awakening. The sky was grey with morning clouds and a damp mist hung in the trees. Next to them, the fire smoldered gently. Tong Lashur lay nearby, wrapped in a variable pile of cloaks. Scorpia was absent.

Entrapta dozed, her journal clutched to her chest. Nearby, she noticed that Bow had set up a small bivouak -a cloak raped over a basic wood construct. He was still snoring inside it. Catra noted, idly, it was made for two people. A very _ snug _ fit.

_ A dalliance with a guard, huh? Girl loves to hit all those Royal tick boxes _ . Catra’s mind flashed with amusement, the strange, faint clouds of the dream flitting away from her. She struggled upright and saw Glimmer was perched back on her log, as if she hadn’t moved all night. Her eyes were darkened and Catra got the impression she hadn’t slept much. The cat girl noticed the bowl in the princess’ hands. It was steaming and she got a hint of fruit and honey.

Groggily, she got to her feet and looked around. It felt  _ early _ . That was never fun. Despite her profession and training, mornings were the  _ worst _ . With a flex, she straightened and stalked towards a large gathering where other members of the camp seemed to be crowding around a large cauldron.

As she shouldered past people who’d received their breakfast she noticed that the camp appeared to be thinning out - some leaving or packing up. Clearly this was a transit point, a waystation for some.

“Good morning dearie! Good sleep? New friends made, yes?”

Catra frowned at the diminutive Razz who was perched on a stool behind the large cauldron. The old woman stirred whilst humming a nonsensical tune.

“Still alive. Not turned into a newt. Gotta count for something, right?

“Oh yes indeed C’yra. Mara would say she was proud of your restraint. Less need to save you from yourself again.”

Catra sighed, “Not gonna get an answer on this, I bet. Who’s C’yra? You… you mentioned her before.”

“Not C’yra who you are thinking about, no? You heard her last night? She calls to you, you know. Across time. Across space. Two halves of the same cannot be denied. Light, dark, ever circling. But also together, never one without the other. They exist within one another,” the old woman ladeled a helping of porridge into a bowl and smiled at Catra, “Berries?”

It was a jumble of thoughts that assailed Catra as she stared at the old woman. It was  _ too early _ for this, “What?

“Berries, dearie. Not as good as in a pie, but makes the oats taste less like oats. Honey too! Good for texture.”

“No, about… the… calling?”

“I didn’t call you, you came over here, dearie. Anyway, you go, keep your friends safe. Not long now,” with that the woman went back to stirring the pot.

“What do you mean not ll…”

“Oh there you are Catra! Oh! Breakfast, great idea. So, perfuma and I were talking, about next steps and all that and, well, I think, maybe if you’re up for it, we could try a few venture’s somewhere to the north? Keep away for a bit, maybe try to head to the Wastes for a bit? Bag a couple of monsters,sell the hides, get some coin. Lay low, maybe? And, um, now you and that princess are a bit pally-er, maybe she could put a good word in with the Queen and, maybe, we won’t have to be on the run for so long?”

Catra stared at Scorpia who had practically materialised out of the crowd. She turned back but Razz had gone, replaced by a sleepy looking goat-girl. Catra ignored the waffling Scorpion and waved at the goat, “Hey, where’d Razz go?”

“Huh?”

“The old lady?”

“Dunno. Just got here.”

Catra sighed in disgust and stalked away, Scorpia in tow, still rattling off ideas about their next  _ venture _ . It was worth considering, she granted - where to next? They had sufficient coin, just about, but then what? It wouldn’t last and they needed more business. Brightmoon was out, the Scorpion Kingdoms were… well they were out, going by what Scorpia had said - she just hadn’t realised how much danger they’d been in whilst they were there. That left the wastes, the expansive forests or the Frostan nations.

Or the Desolation. Where the Great Engineer resided.

No one went there.

There was Salineas - but that was just fishing. Fishing and  _ pirates _ . So  _ potentially _ an option. As long as they didn’t piss off the Mer-people. And, with their current track record, Catra had a feeling that was a practical guarantee if they wandered  _ that _ way.

The Frostans always had work, though. Troll clearances, piracy raids, even the odd gladiatorial bought. They were  _ honest _ about their desire to punch things. Catra could respect that. Of course the cold was a problem, even with her natural fur.

“North sounds… good. We could cut through the wastes, maybe then curve to the coast?” muttered Catra.

“Oh! Two birds, one stone! I like it! Did you consider Salineas?”

“I mean, I like fish, Scorpia, but… no. Don’t want to end up conscripted by a privateer. Or worse,” she shuddered, “a bar wench.”

Scorpia laughed, “Yeah, like you’d last five minutes serving ale.”

“What, I’ve got charm!”

Glimmer glanced up as they approached and tried for a glare, “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve just not been exposed to my sparkling personality for long enough Sparkles.”

Glimmer shook her head tiredly, “How did she put up with you?”

Catra lapsed into silence her smile faltering faintly, “She was the funny one… she not joining us…?” she tried to suppress the hope in her voice. Glimmer frowned and shook her head.

“She only really comes right at me if… if I’m in danger.”

“So I have to threaten you? Why didn’t she turn up… last night?”

Glimmer looked at her and watched as Catra played with her porridge, “Not in real danger? Or Perfuma’s magic. I don’t think she  _ can _ come here, really. Not unless our  _ host _ lets her,” the Princess shot the Dryad a look. Not nasty, just mild irritated. For her part, the dryad just shrugged.

“I’m keeping the peace, Glimmer. And your… friend is not something I can account for. I’m sure she’s a lovely person. Except I can’t  _ sense _ a person in there.”

“I told you, it’s the armour!” groaned Glimmer. Catra watched the pair and blew on her berry porridge gently.

“No, it’s more than that. The metal feels  _ wrong _ Glimmer. Like it’s something unnatural. I said to you last night, not here. Not until I know more.”

Glimmer sighed and went back to her food, idly slopping the beige mixture in her bowl. Bow had finally roused himself and Catra finally noticed how  _ weird _ his armour was - it left his belly open as well as his arms., but seemed to cover his upper torso. She gestured at him, “What’s  _ with _ that? I mean, one gut shot and that’s you  _ out _ .”

He grinned at her and tapped the armour, “Glimmer’s mother enchanted it for me - not so easy to hit me there. And it means I’m a lot more mobile, more flexible. That lamellar stuff or padding, really digs in y’know?”

Catra shook her head, “Still, risky.”

“Why’d you tell her that? What if she, y’know, goes all  _ assassin-y _ again?” glowered the Princess. Catra snorted.

“No one’s paying me, Sparkles. Also, frankly, never make the same mistake twice. Now I  _ know _ what I’m up against, no thanks… I mean, just you, yeah fine, risk reward. But Adora, nah. I’d break a sweat.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, “The. Worst.”

“Yep. So, you gonna just.. .stay here?”

The pair exchanged a look, then shrugged, “No idea. Forgive us if we don’t tell you our plans,” murmured Glimmer. Catra just shrugged again.

“Can’t blame you. Keep your plans to yourself, fewer points of failure.”

“OH! Data point! Maybe that’s why ours have become so slapdash and convoluted?” Entrapta offered from across the smoldering fire. Catra rolled her eyes. Scorpia chuckled, but said nothing.

They ate in silence and Catra took the opportunity to nap again. True down-time was rare. There was always the risk of a rival cut-throat, or mark. Or guards. Or  _ anything _ . Even in taverns one of them was always on watch. Here she was able to just  _ luxuriate _ in the clear air, the sun that poked through the clouds. The reflections of the barely-visible moons in the sky.

Scorpia babbled on about plans. Entrapta worked her machines. Tong Lashur meandered, then sat down to whittle at a piece of bone he produced from his satchel.

The Princess Pair, as Catra referred to them, wandered the camp, seemingly bored. They conversed with a few people, Glimmer seeming to finally take to the whole  _ meet the people _ thing. Catra couldn’t help but  _ like _ the girl on some level. She had fire, focus. An attitude. But she was reckless. Catra recognised that temptation - the slash first, deal with it later impulse.

Life would teach the Princess that lesson. Hell, it was already doing so.

After another nap, she went for a walk herself. She didn’t stray too far from the camp, but wandered through the trees, taking in the air, the sounds. The trees were a strange mishmash - large, winding trunks to thin saplings. Vines and fronds obscured a fair bit of the view, making the place almost feel like a jungle. She retreated back after only an hour’s wandering but paused at the edge of the camp as something tickled her hearing and a faint scent caught the wind. Familiar,  _ old _ memories. Dusty hallways. But it was gone.

She shuddered, wondering at whether it was the forest playing tricks, her own disturbed dreams or Razz’s foreboding words.

The day passed lazily, Perfuma’s insistence that they remain enforced by the dryads who seemed to shadow them as they moved towards the edge of the camp. Catra had noticed a few as she’d walked the outskirts. Not threatening, just watchful. She was under no illusion that they’d drag her back if she’d ran. It irked her, but only mildly. They were prisoners, but in a sort of  _ you have a faint choice _ way. It was temporary and they did need the reprieve.

Night had fallen and the rest of the camp had begun an impromptu celebration - dancing, cavorting and singing around a larger central fire. Catra shied away from it, but watched as Scorpia dragged Entrapta over to enjoy. Bow wandered away with them and, Catra noticed with a smirk, Perfuma wasn’t far behind, seeming to want to linger as near to Scorpia as she could.

Glimmer had stayed away too, huddled by their own fire. She was lost in thought and Catra ignored her. She lay out her own sleeping mat, ready to catch an early sleep. Shadows knew she needed it. But the Princess clearly had other ideas.

“You said more would come?”

“Huh?”

“More Weavers. How many? You said you’d tell me their plan.”

Catra rolled onto her back and sighed, then ran her hand over her face, “Yeah, guess I did.”

“You do owe me,”

“I know. And, well… you’re not gonna like it.”

Glimmer fixed her with a stare, “More second rate mercs?”

“Ouch, you got  _ bite _ Sparkles. And… maybe. This group it was…. Shoddy. Not me, I mean the Weavers they sent after you. Either they thought you’d be  _ easy _ orrrr… the Weavers are on the ropes.”

“That doesn’t sound… bad? And you  _ killed _ someone? Octavia?”

“Yeah. An old… friend. Nah, that’s a lie. Crazy wench. Trying to get up the ranks. She had three initiates with her…”

“All dead then?”

Catra shifted uncomfortably, “They uh… they won’t be a problem. But even an Initiate would be a challenge. Not for  _ me _ . Or Scorp. Or Entrapta. They’re in leagues of their own, trust me. But, yeah, they’d give you a run for your money. Arrow boy too.”

“But not She Ra,” it was a statement. No ire there, just flat words. Catra nodded.

“Yeah… yeah she’d gut them. She and I… we were on an even footing…” it felt almost galling to admit that, to this girl. And to her own pride, even in spite of the fact she  _ missed _ Adora more than she’d realised. Like a freshly opened wound, it stung. She coughed and ran her hand over her face again and felt surprised to see her hand come away slightly wet, “Uh… anyway, yeah… but she was always as tep ahead. Seems she got  _ better _ . Fuck knows how.”

Bitterness was back in her voice but she wasn’t sure who it was directed at. Glimmer watched her, “You…. you could, maybe… come with us?”

Catra rolled her head to stare at the girl, incredulous, “What?”

“Well, not all the way. We… we’re not sure, maybe back to Brightmoon, maybe try to wander. But, um… if you wanted to see her. Adora I mean.”

She felt her breath still, her heart clench. It was  _ painful _ for some reason. Apprehension filled her.  _ Fear _ filled her, “N… not a good idea Sparkles. She chased us here. Not sure she won’t… try to kill me.”

Glimmer frowned, “Why would she?”

The cat girl shrugged and looked up at the darkening sky, “She was supposed to have died. I  _ saw _ her die. I… maybe her sparing me was a fluke? Maybe she  _ isn’t _ Adora. Maybe…”

“Sounds like you’re scared…”

“Fuck you, you don’t know me…” that came out harsher than she’d intended. Catra inhaled, “You… you don’t. And… it’s the past. She’s got this whole new life. I’m a merc, I’ve got my life. She doesn’t need  _ complications _ .”

She added, to herself,  _ not until I know more. Know what the Hopers did to her. _

In her mind, she knew what she was going to do next. A Light of Hope stronghold in the woods here? Yeah, that was their  _ first _ stop. Glimmer was silent for a moment longer.

“Well that’s stupid,” Catra turned her head to look at the purple haired girl, “Sounds like you’re  _ avoiiiiiding _ something, kitty cat.”

“You can call me Catra. I know Perfuma told you my name,”

“Yeah and I’m Glimmer, remember.”

“Nah, Sparkles.”

“Fine, Kitty cat.”

“Ugh, make your insipid point already.”

“Why not just…. Try? I’ll tell her to  _ not _ kill you. That you aren’t a threat. And… we’re close enough that Perfuma could, maybe, stop her if she tries?”

Catra propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Glimmer, “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why’d you do that? What possible reason? I tried to  _ kidnap _ you. Killed your guards. Maimed a friend of yours. What  _ possible _ reason do you have?”

Glimmer eyed her and chewed her lip, “No idea. It’s one thing hearing about raiders, bandits and assassins. Meeting them? Talking with them? I think you’re a rogue, a violent  _ thug _ … but you’re…. You’re not what I was expecting. Nor are your friends. Bow is…”

“Irritating? A poor conversationalist? Really bad at choosing outfits?”

Glimmer managed a smirk, “Some of that. But he  _ is _ a good judge of people.I… trust that. A lot. And he wouldn’t give you guys the time of day unless, well… he thought you were worthwhile. I’m kind of on the fence. As I said, I can’t forgive what you did. But my mom always says to look at the big picture… to think like a Queen. Part of me wants you punish  _ properly _ \- a court, a trial.  _ Justice _ . The proper way. Part of me wants to punch you. But… you’ve done  _ something _ . Maybe balanced the scales a bit more? And Perfuma likes you… confusing as that is. She’d  _ harsh _ on people who are not friendly.”

“Quite a speech, Sparkles,” murmured Catra, a frown on her face. She was uncomfortable under the Princess’ scrutiny.

“Yeah. Maybe I want to see what happens. Maybe to see if... if it helps in some way. Helps  _ Adora  _ too.”

Catra looked back up at the stars, “You said she was… distant?”

“Yeah, barely out of the armour most days. Always training. She’s always drilling with the guards, got a few hooked to the Light of Hope playbook. Kinda makes them a bit... fanatical? Some days she’s like a normal girl. We talk, we laugh. Then she seems to fade out… then the armour goes back on and…yeah. Maybe you can help?”

That drew a chuckle from Catra, “Or she snaps and goes crazy.”

Glimmer sighed and nodded, “Anyway, so… think about it. We’re gonna go tomorrow. Not sure how long you’re here for. But what were you saying about the Weavers? It’s just me they want?”

Catra was faintly glad for the topic shift and she adjusted herself on her rollmat. “Yyyyeah. Seems they’re after Princesses. And if they get desperate, they may send something worse than a Champion. A Brother. And even Adora might find that a challenge."

Glimmer sighed and nodded, "Great. An order of famous assassins singling out _me_. Just GREAT! FABULOUS! Best. News. EVER." 

That caused a chuckled to blrut from Catra as she grinned skyward, "Don't let it go to your head. It's not just… not… just… you….”  Catra’s brain clicked as she spoke. 

Princesses. Plural? Wasn’t that what Lonnie had said? Ones with parents still alive. Which meant  _ who _ ? The Frostan royalty had, relatively recently, had a  _ death _ \- Catra knew that, she’d been there. So the new Queen (Still a princess apparently, Royalty was  _ confusing _ ) was on the throne already. Salinas? Who knew what the Mers did. The Weavers found them more trouble than they were worth to engage with - submerged Kingdoms were a  _ pain _ to infiltrate. The shore-bound elements of the Kingdom didn’t have a palace with permanent residences.

That left  _ who _ ? Glimmer, obviously. Maybe some of the minor Kingdoms?

And of course.

Scorpia. Catra blinked as she stared at the stars. Did the Weavers know? Octavia hadn’t, so maybe.  _ Maybe _ . Maybe they were ok.

Chance would be a fine thing.

“Shiiiiit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW a very talky chapter (Another one). Not quite as happy with this one. I think the story wants to kick it up a notch SHORTLY.
> 
> Mostly I wanted banter and to get the CONFRONTATION done. Glimmer is also hideously racist! Ish. mainly just peeved.
> 
> Let me know what you think - as I said, not QUITE as satisfied with this chapter. It came out in one go as I tried to work through the dialogue, the interactions. Trying to keep Glimmer's temper, but also her capacity for kindness (Yes she LEARNS that slowly, but wanted to show she has the grain of it here...) Maybe they're friending it up too quickly? But then again, no real choice due to Perfuma... plus Glimmer tends to go with whatever Bow says.
> 
> Bow is, of course, BOW. easily distracted by shiny things and overwhelmingly nice.


	15. Judge them by their actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more you learn, the less you know, so it seems.
> 
> Events take a turn and the camp receives more visitors.

Glimmer watched as Catra struggled from her bedroll. Catra, for her part, was now on full alert. She wasn’t  _ quite _ sure why - just she knew that the way the world worked, this was a lose thread that would lead nowhere good unless she addressed it, “Where’s the tree-girl?”

“Huh? What, do I look like some sort of orator on the dialects stage?”

Catra stared blankly at the Princess, “Come again?”

“For a well travelled assassin, you don’t know much about how we conduct business in Brightmoon.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “Never got to your part of the world before I cut links. Closest I got to your shining ivory towers was Thaymor…”

“Yeah, anyway, if I don’t have you executed, you can maybe take in the orators debating the laws on the stages in our parks,” clearly, the girl was joking, but it was still delivered with a faint barb.

“Oh so magnanimous of you. And sounds  _ thrilling _ . Not my idea of courting though,” Catra looked around distractedly, scanning the thin crowd around the clearing. She also could smell something on the air, beyond the grass and wood, underneath the charcoal and  _ heat _ of the flames.

Glimmer stared at her, “And what makes you think… I mean, you’re a… and I’m…  _ you wish _ .”

Catra blinked at her, puzzled, then snorted, “Huh, don’t worry yourself Sparkles. Wouldn’t  _ dare _ come between you and your puppy-eyed bodyguard.”

“Adora and I…” Her focus zeroed in on the Princess at that and the purple haired girl actually faltered at Catra’s stare, “...aren’t like….that?”

Catra forced herself to relax. Why had that  _ bothered _ her? Like, she hadn’t exactly been  _ pure _ these past few years. Why was she so bothered by the idea? Her head hurt - it felt too much to think about, likely her agitation just making her antsy, “Not  _ her _ glitter-head. Your boy with the bow. Entrapta though, no idea...”

“Oh. Um… We’re not. We… it wouldn’t be  _ proper _ .”

“That’s some prime horseshit right there. Should set up a farm with that. Great crops. Or whatever you do with dung.”

Glimmer scowled but didn’t seem to have a retort. Catra snorted and stalked off among the campfires. The wind picked up briefly and she had a whiff of the wider forest - all distant leaf-mold and flowers, mingled with the faint musk of animal life. She had no idea what each scent was, only that they were present. It mingled with the slightly stale odor of the camp, which was itself a cavalcade of spices, food, ash and sweat. 

Her sense of smell was sharp, but was fickle. She’d never really  _ trained _ herself to pick out different scents, beyond what smelled  _ wrong _ for an environment. And she wasn’t sure what was really wrong for a forest, or a camp of people. Cinamon? That metallic tang? Grease and fat, simmering on a rusted pan? Who knew.

Perfuma, probably.

She moved through the campfires and nodded at Bow and Entrapta, who were looking over at the main central fire, going over what looked like one of the Archer’s arrow designs. Catra nodded at him as she passed, “Wasn’t Scorpia with you?”

Entrapta fixed her intense stare on Catra and nodded, “The tree-lady, um… Perfuma, yes that’s her name.  _ Perfuma _ wanted to talk. I think they went to the tents over there,”

The firmly shut tent flaps were indication enough. Catra stared and heaved a faint sigh. She had an  _ inkling _ what was going on. And potentially that meant being a  _ really _ annoying friend if she tried to follow through on her main hunch about Scorpia being a target. There were  _ rules _ , after all, about bothering friends when they were ‘occupied’. In many senses of that word.  Bow glanced at her and nodded, “Yyyyeah, you might want to give them a minute.”

She gave him an appraising look - the man wasn’t as obtuse or oblivious as she'd expected, “Your fiancee is all alone right now, y’know. Failing your body guard duty, aintcha?”

He looked at her and smiled, “Nice try. Takes a bit more than that to fluster me. But good shot. Thanks for telling me.”

“You are very trusting. Not worried I was going to, I dunno, stab her?”

“Welcome to try. Again… “ he looked at her hard, “You killed one of my friends, you know.”

Catra met his gaze and nodded slowly, “Imagine I did.”

“Was it worth it?”

She looked into his eyes and shook her head, “No,” his eye twitched faintly and she followed up, softly, “What was their name?”

Bow swallowed and sighed, “Elias. Has a wife back in one of the Brightmoon hamlets. Kid on the way. Glimmer sees it all from the perspective of  _ politics _ and  _ honour _ . She sees the names and people. But I  _ know _ them.”

Catra held eye contact and nodded, her own emotions tamped down, “So, why vouch for us? Why make  _ nice _ ?”

He shrugged, “Can’t kill you here anyway. And killing you won’t bring them back. Their job was to keep the Princess safe and they did that. We all know the risks. But I’ll remember them… and seeing what you did after, with Octavia and... well… you have  _ some _ honour. Wasn’t lying when I said we could learn stuff from you.”

She searched his expression, “Cold of you. Breaking bread with someone who… basically murdered your friend.”

His smile was thin, “It’s a brutal world, despite what the philosophers say at the dialetics. Reality forces you to make choices. I could be an asshole and swear vengeance. Or I can try to make sure your next actions don’t harm Glimmer, me or our people. I’m not sure if your motives make it better or worse…”

Catra shrugged, “Why do we do anything? For food, shelter, warmth? Your guy in it for the  _ cause _ or the coin? He’d have gutted me if I hadn’t opened his throat.”

Bow inhaled slowly. She knew she  _ was _ getting to him, but that wasn’t her aim, per se. His whole attitude was familiar yet also confused her - pragmatism borne of mercenary work she knew - grudges meant you often cut off some of your potential market. Octavia was proof you had to bury the hatchet  _ sometimes.  _ The archer gave another shrug finally.

“Coin. But you wouldn’t have been in there, if you hadn’t made a choice.”

“Yep. Make it big, some kidnap job. Not  _ proud _ of it. Not ashamed either. Outside of those shiny walls, in the wastes, in the Kingdoms… it’s not  _ pretty _ out here, Arrow boy. Come back and tell me you’d be happy starving, letting  _ Glimmer _ starve… if it meant you kept your hands totally clean. Maybe you’d die to keep your hands clean. Or maybe you’ve gotten them dirty and just explained it away through some fancy moral code. Those lizards you shot - did they have a choice? Or were they just following orders?”

They measured each other until Bow nodded slowly, “Good talk. I’ll check on Glimmer. And thanks again for not stabbing her.”

Catra watched him go, still confused, then looked at Entrapta. The girl was poring over one of Bow’s arrows with a fascinated look on her face, “Makin’ friends, huh?”

“He’s quite brilliant. Surprising he’s just a soldier. Apparently Brightmoon isn’t all that fond of contraptions - more enamoured with mystical endeavours. Quite wasted there, in my opinion. I wonder… Dryl always needs more engineers! Maybe we can take him with us!”

“Careful, don’t think the Princess would like that. Stealing her boyfriend.”

Entrapta stared at her for a moment and then shrugged, “Give me a lever and I can move any obstacle the world provides.”

That one went over her head slightly, so she ignored it, “Yeah, not killing the Princess, ok? Arrow boy kinda has a point… plus we’re not getting more gold for it so no point. Think it’s safe to uh… interrupt?”

“Interrupt what?” Scorpia’s voice, right behind her, made Catra’s tail fluff suddenly, but she managed to keep the rest of her body. She turned slowly and then looked up at the buff woman. She had to keep the smirk from her face as she took in the faintly dishevelled hair, the flushed cheeks and the slightly glassy gaze.

“Oh, I thought you were, uh,... busy.”

There was a flash of straw-blond hair as Perfuma stepped around Scorpia, adjusting her leaf-like coverings. Again, Catra wasn;t sure if that was  _ clothing _ or just an extension of the dryad herself. The blond smiled broadly at Catra.

“Scorpia was very kindly indulging me.”   
  
Catra blinked, surprised by that, “Uh, oh, ok… I uh…”

“Yes, she was providing me with some enthusiastic feedback. I always like it when a guest is so keen to talk, you know?” Perfuma met Catra’s gaze steadily, “And Scorpia is  _ very  _ good at feedback.”

“You uh… you, well… I don’t think I need to know?” Catra was very confused. What was Perfuma trying to get out of this? Was she being innocent, was she….  _ Ohhhhh _ . Catra exhaled and folded her arms, then arched an eyebrow, “See, I wouldn’t  _ know _ . Scorpia’s good at doing physical stuff for me, y’know. Never really done much for  _ her. _ ”

She watched Perfuma twitch faintly, the smirk morphing into a faintly brittle smile. She glanced at Scorpia and saw the woman looking between the two of them, faintly concerned. Perfuma inhaled and tilted her head, “That’s a bit… one sided, surely?”

Catra decided to be merciful. And, well… honest, “What? She’s the muscle! Of course I get her to do the heavy lifting! I’m not going toe to toe with some bulky guy with a mace!” she enjoyed the faintly puzzled look on the dryads face, as if she wasn’t sure they’d been playing the right game. Catra leaned past Scorpia and patted Perfuma on the arm, “I mean, yeah, I watch her back. Make sure no one gets  _ close _ enough to  _ hurt  _ her. That’s what we do. For each other. We have our limits, y’know.”

She stared into Perfuma’s eyes which were so human and yet  _ not _ . Still beautiful, in their own way. The dryad looked back, her little game of sounding out Catra’s intentions now turned back on her. Slowly, the tree-nymph nodded slowly.

“I’m as old as these woods… loyalty is a rare commodity. Good that Scorpia has such a good…  _ friend _ ?”

Catra nodded slowly, “Yeah. A good  _ friend _ . Did you give Scorpia some good pointers…. About the camp?” she managed to keep her tone innocent. But Perfuma’s grin turned lecherous for a moment.

“Several. Drew her attention to a fair few things.”

Despite herself, Catra found she quite  _ liked _ the dryad. And not just because she’d been about to throw down with the Sparkling Princess. Scorpia for her part seemed to be wide eyed and agitated, “Uh… um… you two… are… are you  _ flirting _ ?”

The poor girl sounded jealous, heartbroken and confused, whilst  _ also  _ trying to seem chipper. Catra heaved a sigh and looked at the Princess, “No. No we’re not. I’m not into flowers… unlike you. Also, not into flowers being  _ into _ me, y’know?” Scorpia blushed to nearly the same shade as her carapace, “So, glad you got your relaxation in. And in under a  _ day _ Scorp. Proud of you. Anyway, I was asking if I’d interrupt… what you guys were doing but seems you’re  _ more _ than finished, so can I borrow you for a few? ‘Fuma and I just set some boundaries I think, that right?”

The dryad hummed an affirmative and squeezed Scorpia’s arm, then sauntered off towards Entrapta. Scorpia watched her go with an expression that screamed  _ drunk _ . Catra rolled her eyes and coughed, “Oh! Yeah, sorry Wildcat, had me going for a second there.”

“Yeah, sorry… just… just want you to be careful. Not saying, y’know,  _ don’t _ … but… we’re leaving, right? Or you gonna hide out here?” she felt uncertainty creep into her words and tried to banish them, to keep the query light.

“Huh? Oh, no, it was me saying the wastes, right? I mean, I… I really like her. Like, a  _ lot _ Catra. Is that too fast? I mean, it’s… yeah it’s fast. Is she using like, her magical plant powers? Am I being hypnotised? Has she… she wouldn’t! She’s too nice! But maybe she’s making me thi-”

Catra grabbed Scorpia’s claw and glared at her, “Shut up. She’s a weird, freaky plant spirit older than some of  _ your kingdom’s towns _ . And she spent a good hour doing fun things  _ to you _ . I think the feeling is  _ mutual _ Scorp… for what it’s worth.”

Being the person to encourage romance was a  _ new _ experience for Catra. But she hadn’t lied - she had a loyalty to her two comrades. It was one bound by money and mutual survival… but you didn’t share crappy digs, forest floors and rubbish ale with people for months without developing a connection. She watched as the Scorpion Princess drew a breath and then let it out.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just… I’ve not really felt this about anyone. I mean I had a crush on  _ you _ and that…”

“Wait  _ what _ ? I could’ve been going to town with you…?” Catra laughed as Scorpia blushed again, “Well, uh… that’s… kinda flattering. Thanks Scorp… you’re not too hard on the eye, you know. But… yeah, that ship’s sailed I think.”

There was a faint pang of  _ what could’ve been _ , but it was only faint - like realising you could’;ve managed another drink in an alehouse before kick out. Which felt a disservice in a way, to what they had as allies, as comrades. Sword sisters, as she’d heard some of the fancier merc-groups call each others. It was a wishy-washy name, but it fit.

Scorpia studied her for a moment and smiled ruefully, “Yeah, probably would’ve turned out really  _ really _ awkward,”

Completely ruined our banter… or my banter. You’d have taken it so seriously.”

“Plus there’s Ador- ahhhh sorry, Catra,” the Scorpion winced and the cat-girl licked her lips slowly. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

“‘S ok Scorp… I have  _ no _ idea what to think about that right now… and I am not thinking about a cottage with a freakin’ herb garden and an archery range just yet with  _ tall shiny and freakin’ scary _ . Just… just maybe something to fix her first. Maybe. Or get as far away as possible,” she coughed and scratched the back of her neck, “Which leads me onto why I was looking for you,”

Scorpia nodded slowly. They’d wandered between a pair of tents to talk and Catra perched atop a small pile of wooden boxes. Scorpia squatted nearby and rolled her shoulders for a moment, “Yeah, next steps, routes… thought of where next?”

“Less where more  _ why _ . So, Glimmer’s a target for the Weavers… and that means…”

“Oh I am too. Probably.”

Catra stared at the girl, “Uhh.. way to steal my thunder Scorpia.”

“Well, it’s why I told you. About the Princess thing. Thought that was obvious? And, well, we know they seem to be after Princesses with still-living family.”

“Yeah…. I.. .wait, so….”

“Which probably has  _ something _ to do with the connection to the stones, y’know? Though quite what I don’t know, what with me being unable to really connect and, well, there still being a bonded soul present, so kinda a moot point if they wanted to use a Princess as a conduit for the power… so..>”

“Woa woa WOA! Hold the fuck  _ up _ Scorp. What are you… what are you  _ talking about _ ?”

Scorpia looked at her and frowned, “You hadn’t figured this out?”

“What,  _ no! _ Of course not. I mean, yeah, Princess, that clicked… but the  _ magic _ stuff? You know that’s NOT my area. Like, at all!”

“Huh, just… you’re the one with the plans….”

“Which revolved around business deals, where to go and  _ stabbing people _ . I get politics, Scorp, but… this has been a  _ lot _ y’know? So, sorry if I’m not super fast at the ‘making connections’ game the past couple of days,” she pressed the heels of her palm against her closed eyes, “But… Octavia didn’t have a clue who you were, so that meant I didn’t make the immediate connection either.”

Scorpia mused, “Well, uh… some people think I’m dead. So… maybe?”

The cat-girl sighed, “Maybe… I dunno. Lonnie and the others got a look at you, but they didn’t guess. So, maybe we’re in the clear. But it’s definitely something we need to factor in.”

Catra folded her arms and crossed her legs as she mused. Across from her Scorpia ran a claw through her short, platinum hair and blew out a heavy breath, “Should we… should we take Glimmer with us?”

That drew Catra up/ She blinked and stared at the Scorpion for what felt an eternity, “What kind of abso-fucking-lutely insane idea is  _ that _ ?”

“Well, uh… she’s good in a fight. So’s the Bow guy. And, well, we did kind of…”

“She was.. .she  _ insulted _ you Scorpia!”

“Yeah… yeah she did. But ‘Fuma gave me some good insi-”

“I  _ bet _ she did.”

Scorpia huffed and waved a claw, “You know what I mean. Just… you know what the Weaver’s are gonna do. What they  _ want  _ to do, maybe.”

“I have no idea what they  _ want _ . Just how weird it is they’ve changed… but… she needs to go  _ back _ to Brightmoon. She’ll be safe there. And Adora will…”

“That’s the  _ other _ thing. Do you want to walk away from... That? From finding out what happened?”

“What does it matter. She’s alive, she’s employed by Royalty.”

“She’s weird, scarily strong, like… wow, gosh,  _ ouch _ , y’know?” Scorpia tapped her bruised face, “Not  _ normal _ Catra.”

The cat girl lolled her head back and groaned, “Why is this so  _ difficult? _ Why can’t I just… ugh, stab something and get paid. We should’ve taken that gnome job.”

Scorpia chuckled, “You’d have hated it.”

“I’d have hated it… c’mon let’s get some rest. Think we’re safe enough with your girlfriend’s weird army of scary plant people guarding us right now.”

At that moment, Perfuma stumbled into view, around the corner of the tent. She looked agitated and clocked Scorpia immediately, “You need to go. Something is very  _ very _ wrong.”

Before they could answer a shriek pierced the night air. It wasn’t the shout of a person; rather the sound of tortured metal on wood. Perfuma doubled over and whimpered. Scorpia rushed to her side and helped her, up, then shot Catra a confused look, “What… what’s going on?”

Catra shook her head in confusion, then looked past the tents at the wider camp. It was abuzz with sudden activity as people dashed too and fro in a mild panic, confusion starting to spread like poison between the people, “Not a clue. Nothing good.”

The tripo moved between the tents , Perfuma managing to recover enough to rally the refugees to their campfires. She exhorted a few to arm themselves, others to pack and prepare themselves to flee. She looked ill, somehow. Her colour faded, slightly. Catra stared at her as they marched across the camp and didn’t flinch when the dryad met her gaze. When Perfuma spoke, her voice was strong, but with a scratchy sound to it, “Something’s coming.”

“Great. Ominous  _ and _ vague. Scorp, armour up,” they reached their campfire and found Tong Lashur already pulling a buckler onto his forearm and checking his weapons. Bow had his arrows planted in the earth near them and was scanning the forest, back to the flames. Entrapta had a selection of vials and various contraptions already set up. And Glimmer was tracing runes into the soil nearby, each one flaring with deep purple light. The group glanced at them as they approached and then paused at the sight of Perfuma’s pained face.

Glimmer paused in her ministrations and gasped, “Perfuma!”

The dryad waved her away and looked at the runes, “Keep… going. I’ll be fine. Something’s just… unsettling me.”

Glimmer looked uncertain, but saw Scorpia was holding firmly to the dryad. She inhaled, nodded, then got back on setting up whatever it was she was doing. Catra had an uneasy feeling about the strange sigils in the soil. As if going near them would be  _ terminal _ .

“Ah, you don’t look well at  _ all _ dearie. Not quite the Light, not quite the Shadow. Something ails you, but not an ailment. Not a thing you are  _ used _ to. Shock and awe. Shock, mostly. Like a bad taste, unexpected. Making your stomach churn, though you still be well,” Catra turned and found Razz behind her, the wide-eyes fixed firmly on the wavering dryad.

Perfuma managed a faint smile at the old woman, “Possibly. Feels very  _ wrong _ . Deep into the soil wrong.”

“Bah, you are stronger than this Perfuma! Do not retched at an unfamiliar taste. Breath it in, see it,  _ know _ it. Not so unfamiliar.  _ Bad _ yes.  _ Ugly _ yes. But not  _ wrong _ . Not the Shadow or the Light. Just reality smashed by hammer and heat to a refined degree. Look at her,” and here she pointed to Entrapta, “Think of her trinkets. They do not bother you. Parlour trinks by comparison to what comes, no? Just scale. Like baking a pie for one, or for twenty.”

Perfuma shook herself and squeezed her eyes shut. Catra glanced between Razz, the dryad, then Entrapta, thoroughly confused. Then the dryad opened her eyes with a hiss. She looked at the group, faintly confused.

“Golems?  _ Golems _ ? But…”

Scorpia shook her head slowly, “We’re  _ miles _ from the Frightlands.”

Catra shook her head, “Not the only place you get golems…” but she wasn’t feeling very certain on that. She’d seen  _ one _ in Frostan lands. And even then she hadn’t been sure it wasn’t actually just a mountain troll. But there were rumours some magi used them in their towers; or that some guarded distant, long abandoned citadels in the Crimson Wastes.

Neither of which really explained why they were  _ here _ .

Her gaze tracked over Glimmer and Scorpia. Two princesses. In one place.

And suddenly  _ golems _ . Yeah that couldn’t be a coincidence. She finished pulling her bracers on and slid her various blades into their sheaths. Then she turned to Bow, “So, where’s… she?”

The archer shrugged, “Forests edge. Tends to make… an entrance,” he gave a wry smile then gave Catra a once over, “You’re… staying?”

She shrugged, “So are you.”

He looked at the forest, then back at the camp, “Can’t leave the people.”

Catra pointed at Glimmer, “They’re probably after her.... Leaving would draw the golems away,” it was a half truth. If the Princess ran and the golems kept coming then it might be something  _ entirely _ different they were after. Or just Scorpia. Or maybe the  _ dryad _ . Too many options. Catra shook her head slightly. Bow was staring at Glimmer and chewing at his lip.

“Maybe we….”

The cat girl sighed and looked at Scorpia, then back at Bow and Glimmer, arching both her eyebrows, trying to convey silently her meaning. For her part, the Scorpion Princess just stared back at her blankly. Catra began mugging furiously, pointing two fingers at Scorpia, then at Glimmer, then shrugging. Scorpia looked shocked and shook her head. Catra rolled her eyes and frowned. She then pointed at Scorpia, traced a crown shape above her own head, then pointed at Glimmer and made a talking motion with her hands. Scorpia frowned again. With a sigh, Catra walked around the fire and leaned in. SThe Scorpion princess beat her to the punch.

“I think kidnapping Glimmer would be a really bad idea, Catra.”

“What, NO! Idiot! No, we should.. .we should tell them. Maybe? About you?”

Scorpia bit her lip and fidgeted. She;d pulled her own armour on and was cradling her dented helmet under one arm, “Are you… do you think that’s  _ wise _ ?”

“Well, no idea. Those things  _ could _ be coming her for you. Or her. Both of you. NEITHER. We send her off and they keep coming? Maybe… maybe… ugh,  _ maybe _ we should pool our resources here?”

The larger woman sighed, then watched as Bow walked over to Glimmer and began speaking. They had a short, harsh conversation, then the Princess slumped and nodded. She approached the group and smoothed her dress, “Uh, ‘Fuma… I think… I think they may be after me.” Catra felt Razz watching her, almost expectant, “Bow and I… we’re going to make a run for it, maybe draw them away. I know you can handle them, if they do come this way. But maybe we run, they don’t bother with the people here?”

“Glimmer,” Catra paused and looked at Scorpia, who’d spoken, “They might be after  _ us _ .”

The Purple Princess frowned, “Golems chasing mercenaries… that seems,  _ unlikely _ ….”

“Chasing another  _ Princess _ ….” murmured Scorpia and spread her arms. Glimmer stared at her, uncomprehending, then her hand flew to her mouth.

“You. Are.  _ Kidding me _ . And.. .and Adora… in… And you wanted to  _ Capture me? _ Is this a Scorpion ki-”

“Aaaand shut up Sparkles,” Catra stepped in front of Scorpia, “Not her idea. Just circumstances. And, yeah, I found out recently too. So, short version, get over it, worry about whatever’s coming. Argue the political fuckin’ fallout  _ later _ . She’s got enough people trying to kill her back home, having you on the list out here won’t make much of a difference.”

A scream from behind them made them turn. Razz spun faster than them all and glared, “Oh. They’re early….”

Catra froze and hissed under her breath. Behind her she heard the crash of something heavy as it advanced through the trees. An unknown. A thing she couldn;t put a visage to. Dangerous. Metal. Mechanical, maybe. But unknown.

But what stood between them and the central campfire was a known  _ thing _ . Around it, people scrambled to get away, stumbling past tents, panic now evident in the small clusters of people. On the grass in front of the figure, a body lay, head severed from shoulders, sword discarded a few feet away.

A white mask stared across the expanse of space between them. Black armour interlaced with white, like a harlequin’s checkered tunic, covered by a tabard interwoven with faint green patterns. Catra inhaled slowly. She felt Scorpia step away and ready her halberd. Perfuma adjusted her position as well and a bow was raised. She felt her fur tingle as magical energy began to build. Entrapta, near the fire, readied her strange belows, glancing between the forest and the figure. Tong Lashur hissed quietly and crouched.

Glimmer, nearby, finished her rune and turned, staring at the stationary figure, “Catra… what…”

The cat girl swallowed and licked her suddenly dry lips, “Hope you’ve got some good tricks, Sparkles. You’re about to meet a Brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is, as always, appreciated. And yes, another cliffhanger. The combat will be MESSY to write, so wanted a cleanish break.
> 
> And I don't think it's a spoiler to say there's gonna be a fight (Insert Wilem Dafoe Boondock Saints gif here)


	16. The ring of steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let. Them. Fight.
> 
> Chaos, killing and tragedy.
> 
> A showdown, finally. The Weavers make their move and another faction enters the fray.

Catra was a master, this she knew. But she was a master of some very  _ specific _ things. She was a great fighter, but she thrived on being an  _ ambush _ predator. She could brawl with the best of them, but those were usually just drunken throwdowns. Actual life-and-death fights? She would spend a  _ lot _ of time ensuring the battlefield was to her advantage. And she was normally adept enough to ensure she was prepared for an eventuality if  _ she _ was on the back foot.

Which was fine, barely, against the average town guard, or band of brigands. She could just about wing it. She didn’t  _ like _ to - but she was nothing if not adaptable. But, when it came down to it, she preferred being in a situation with a modicum of a plan. Then she could improvise off the back of it.

That all went to pieces against a  _ Brother _ . She’d seen a fight between one of the strange Elders of the Order maybe a handful of times; after having scouted a particularly entrenched target, for example, in a Frostan Hold; Or the time when the Hopers had breached the monastery. That last one was also the  _ only _ time she’d seen a Brother die and it had taken what amounted to a human siege weapon in terms of raw power.

That Frostan camp? One where she couldn’t get past the archers on the walls or find  _ any _ breach in their walls? Where she couldn’t even pull together a decent, passable disguise?

The Brother had gotten in and out, leaving the sentries on the walls none the wiser… and a longhouse of men nothing more than hung meat and a pool of blood.

And they were going to  _ fight _ one.

She glanced to either side, her strange companions braced, waiting. Waiting, she realised, for her to tell them  _ what _ to do. And she hadn’t a clue, really. How did you fight something that could counter damn near anything you did and riposte too fast to follow? How could you land a killing blow on something that moved faster than a snake?

Of course, that led to another rapid-fire thought - why had the Brother presented itself? Why hadn’t it just snuck in, slit their throats and made off with what it wanted? Or poisoned their stews? Or just waited to grab them as they left…?

Too many questions. She drew a deep breath and took a tentative step forward.

Immediately the white-porcelain mask fixed on her. Eyes that seemed to glow with green fire bored into her. And then the thing  _ spoke _ .

“Little  _ sister _ . Lost little sister.”

The voice was light, sibilant. It slid across the ears like ice down your spine. Soothing but chill. She squared her shoulders, “What do you want?”

The Brother watched her, one hand hovering over the hilt of its sheathed blade. Slowly, the thing circled around the corpse at its feet. The Brother’s eyes flicked towards Glimmer.

Then to Scorpia.

_ Shit. _

How did it know? And… how did it know  _ already _ ? Even if Lonnie or the others had understood, or guessed, the monastery was days travel without pursuit or having to evade hunting patrols. How were they here so fast? And  _ here _ ? Where Perfuma’s magic was supposed to keep them hidden.

“We  _ see _ all, little sister. And if one cannot see, then one must look where one is blind.”

Why was it  _ talking _ ? Her mind tracked the words and she shivered. So, they  _ hadn’t _ seen her… somehow? Scrying, maybe? And so, what? They’d seen a blank spot and sent a Brother on the off chance…? But still! DAYS travel… how?

An arrow zipped from the side, as one of the dryads loosed at the Assassin. There was a blur of motion and the arrow clattered away. The Brother returned its blade to the sheath in a fluid motion, having drawn to deflect the projectile like a striking viper. The green eyes flicked to the offending forest-being. It cocked its head.

And then chaos ensued.

A refugee bolted forward, axe raised and charged the white-masked assassin. The Brother moved like lightning and the man fell, arms severed at the elbows, a gash along his throat. Shocked shouts echoed around the clearing as refugees, already scrambling away, dove for cover. Arrows flew but missed. TheBrother ducked and weaved, then bolted for a group of dryad archers, seeming to zero in on the immediate threat, untroubled by Catra. There was a flash of silver metal and the dryads fell back, falling to pieces like a flurry of leaves. More shouts as several more dryads charged in. They too fell away, splintering apart like split wood. Perfuma cried out and drew her bow back. Her arrow flew true…

And the Brother turned it away with a dismissive flick of its blade. It was like watching a dancer -The white-robed  _ thing _ leaned away from swipes, then stepped under a guard to plant its blade into a gut, before it spun away to slice another opponent. Then another step to deflect a blade, then a flick as an arrow passed nearby.

The feline blinked and grabbed at Scorpia as she made to move forwards, “Stay BACK! Don’t get in close! Spread out! Obstacles, make it fucking  _ work _ for it. ‘Fuma, stop you… your people. PERFUMA!” The blond dryad seemed incensed, rage suffusing her features. Catra slapped the dryad’s bow as the Brother slid through another five of Perfuma’s brethren, “That thing is going to decide  _ we’re _ it’s next target. We’ve got  _ seconds _ . Distance.”

“Not  _ running _ Catra. I can’t. This is my  _ home _ .”

“Not running. But we can’t fight it up close. We need… to..”

A plan formed. She worked with plans, could make them  _ work _ . And she had a framework.

Behind her the sound of crashing splinters and a cry from Glimmer threatened to derail her thoughts. You couldn’t go for a Brother. The fuckers just  _ knew _ . They were so graceful. But they weren’t invulnerable - magic was a potent weapon, they couldn’t deflect it or dodge. And enough arrows  _ would _ kill one. Just, not arrows fired one at a time whilst people fucking  _ rushed _ it.

These dryads were  _ not _ fighters. Maybe they were used to dealing with lone incursions, or regular soldiers… but she wasn’t impressed so far. And Perfuma seemed really  _ off _ all of a sudden.

“Bow, can you rally the dryads, need to keep the thing pinned, at a distance. It gets close, we’re Shadow-cursed  _ dead _ . Entrapta, need something that can, maybe, set it on fire, stick it, I don’t know. We pin it, then Perfuma can riddle it with arrows. Or Glimmer can… where’s the princess?”

“Here! Oh  _ gods _ what are these thiiiiiings?”

Catra turned and froze. Well that was just  _ perfect _ .

The golems had arrived. And they were definitely  _ not _ what she was expecting.

She’d been expecting mud men, or some sort of bronzed statues, like she’d heard about from the travellers - the mythical servants of Mystacor, enchanted servitors.

These were  _ not _ those. They looked more like a scaled up version of Entrapta’s spider mechanical. Large, spherical bodies with a red gem set in the centre, four bulky piston-legs that impacted the ground like hammers. Or rather, that was what the first two looked like - as tall as Scorpia was they smashed through the undergrowth. A larger machine followed - for that’s what they were -  _ machines _ .

The larger one was more a hemisphere, but no smooth edges, just hammered angles. A smaller dome sat atop it, like a cage. Its legs were larger, more segmented. Following behind came things more like what she’d expected - man-shaped constructs. Except these were little more than torsos of hammered copper and brass with arms that ended in sharpened points. The sported simplistic heads, little more than domes, inset with more red gems and shambling spindly legs, each trailed a pall of black smoke from small funnels that emerged from shoulders. All vibrated as they moved, their gaits shuddering and stilted, like wind up contraptions at a market stall.

The lead of the spherical golems was hammering at an invisible wall that Glimmer was struggling to maintain. As Catra watched, the young mage sagged and the air between them and the machines flashed with actinic light.

Perfuma was flicking her gaze between the whirlwind of death that was the Brother and the machines. She looked ill.

“I….I can’t  _ see _ him… why can’t I see him? And…. and those things… they’re just…  _ wrong _ . They  _ hurt _ .”

Catra felt paralysed. Her own gaze flicked to the machines and noticed the smoke they belched was cloying to the trees, coating them in a sticky residue. Greenish oil seemed to leak from them as well, some sort of lubricant or toxin, she wasn’t sure. Whatever the cause, the things seemed toxic by their very nature.

Entrapta was enthralled, “Such… amazing designs… If only we had time to stu-”

“Uh, Entrapta, maybe, um, focus, and we’ll let you pick through the scraps afterwards?” Scorpia’s tone was jovial but twitchy as she chided their companion. The Scorpion princess was looming near Perfuma, seemingly unwilling to abandon the distraught Dryad. Razz, for her part, seemed disinterested and was staring off into a seemingly empty part of the forest. Then she looked at Catra.

“Fight or flight, dearie. We all have a choice.I do hope you both come to bake pies, though, That is a  _ good _ choice.”

Catra stared at the woman, then at her companions. She realised what this was - shock. Absolute terror freezing everyone. She’d always wondered if the Brother’s didn’t have some low level magical ability to use fear. Or if it was just their reputation. Either way, it was working. She shook herself mentally and grabbed Perfuma again.

“Get it together, flower girl. Get your people to hold back, or they’re gonna get cut down. Get the people out of here. Scorpia, help them. That thing is after  _ you _ . Either it follows you or Glimmer, We can hold it, but we can’t if I have to worry about  _ you _ as well.”

Scorpia puffed up, “I can…”

“No. You CAN’T. Think Adora…. See how well that went? Then thing about something a lot faster and with even  _ fewer _ worries about gutting someone. Fucking  _ go _ .”

Perfuma seemed to rouse herself and nodded, then pushed Scorpia way, towards another small cluster of dryads who had seemingly emerged from the trees themselves. Catra looked at Bow and Entrapta. Purple mechanic stared at the golems, then over at the Brother, “Our problems are about to get exponentially… bigger….”

“Yeah… no kidding,” murmured Bow. He had an arrow nocked and aimed through Glimmer’s barrier, then loosed at one of the Golems. The larger three were battering at the barrier, whilst the man-like constructs seemed to be content to just shudder and stand still. Bow’s arrow flickered through the barrier and slammed into a copper construct. The thing rocked briefly, but remained standing. The archer cursed. Glimmer, nearby groaned and the barrier flickered again. Tong Lashur, hissed, his posture low as he glowered at the metal monsters.

“Ok, Entrapta, Bow…. run interference on the Brother. Sparkles, Tong Lashur… hold the line while we get the people out the other side of the camp…. I’ll…. Take out the Brother.”

The Purple princess looked over her shoulder and stared at her, “But… you said…”

“Yeah, well…” the cat-girl gave a half smile, “Someone’s gotta be the hero, right?” she looked at Bow, “Any more of those sticky arrows?”

The archer stared at her and grinned, “Ok.”

Beside her, the reptile frowned and growled, “I am much better choice. Can help.”

“That thing’s faster’n you. And Octavia got one over on you.”

The lizard growled then shrugged, “Fine. But metal things have no meat. How is there glory in defeating thing that I cannot  _ learn _ from?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to eat Brother… probably toxic even for  _ your _ weird scaly butt.”

The cat girl glanced at Entrapta, who’d gone to her satchel and was rooting through it. She tapped her little walker-machine and it sprung to life, then scuttled towards Catra, “It’s only got very basic punch-card designs in there. But might be useful. Oh and take these.”

Catra nodded grasping at the vials. then turned towards the Brother. The white masked being stood still, surrounded by bloodied corpses and the wrecked, leafy remains of dryads. The green gaze was locked onto Scorpia, who was ushering a group of panicking refugees away from campfires. Catra watched as the elite assassin began to head in the direction of the Scorpion Princess. It paused and turned to look at Catra, then beyond her towards Glimmer. Then it seemed to notice the golems.

And she swore the Brother looked  _ surprised _ .

Were they not part of the same attack? What was going on?

No time for that. With a cry she charged. The Brother’s gaze fixed on her, almost disappointed by how obvious she was being.

Except she changed course and ran at an angle, still a good twenty yards from the master assassin. She tossed a pair of vials and the assassin swiped at them reflexively. They burst showing the thing in fluid and powdery smoke. At the same moment, Entrapta’s little machine scuttled forwards and belched a rolling cloud of flame at the Brother.

Green eyes widened in faint surprised and it fell backwards, almost, as it backpedalled. The air ignited as the chemicals from Entrapta’s vials caught and the air blossomed into a crackling explosion. Catra, even though she’d changed course, was knocked off her feet. The Brother, much closer, was sent backwards, bowled over by the blast. It’s robes were aflame, the fluids blazing with green fire as the robe wend up like a torch.

Catra pushed herself to her feet as around them people cheered.

And then the Brother  _ stood up _ .

Clothes aflame, it fully unsheathed its weapon and adopted a fighting stance, whilst around it tents caught and burned. The grass itself caught aflame as the creature stalked forwards. The smell of burnt flesh met Catra’s nose and she stared as the  _ thing _ approached. When it spoke, there wasn’t even the  _ hint _ of pain in its voice.

“Little sister. We will take them. And you, little traitor…. Will meet the shadows.”

It charged, moving the curved, thin blade in and upward sweep, Catra could play the scene in her mind - she’d parry the first strike, then next would knock her blades away and she’;d be forced backward, but she would bet the attack would likely open a major vein. And then the Brother would move and remove her head with a final swipe.

Except the arrow that then exploded at the feet of the creature. Sticky ooze splashed out and hardened and the Brother found one of its feet encased. Catra stumbled back, then flung her hands out, sending a fan of knives at the Brother. It cast them aside with a contemptuous swipe of its blade, but one sank into the meat of its leg. An arrow thudded into its torso And catra glanced to one side to see Perfuma readying another volley.

A cry of pain drew her attention over to Glimmer. The shield was  _ gone _ \- a pair of smoldering trees showing the sudden released of magical energy had grounded into  _ something _ . One of the golems also seemed to be scorched, but otherwise functional. The small army of metal was now spilling into the clearing. Bow was dragging a stumbling Glimmer away as Tong Lashur leapt into the fray. She saw the reptile disappear into a sudden pile of flailing metal.

Her view flicked back to the Brother, cursing the distraction, in time to see the thing smash the encasing goop at its feet. She backflipped away as the Brother lunged at her, but landed awkwardly.

“Catra!” Scorpia was suddenly there, between her and the Brother. Her pole-arm caught the creature’s blade and she tried to knock it back with the butt of her weapon. The Brother danced out of reach and adjusted its stance, weighing up Scorpia with a cold stare. Its clothes were ruined, the robe having burned away; the under tunic and gambeson were scorched and torn. But the mask seemed untouched.

“Come with us. No more shall be harmed. Surrender.”

Scorpia glowered at the thing, “Who sent you?”

The Brother didn’t answer. Instead it lunged. Scorpia had time to block the first strike, but a spear or polearm was  _ not _ a weapon for close quarters with a swordsman who knew what they were doing. The Brother grabbed the haft of the weapon and then stabbed its sword into the meat of Scorpia’s thigh. The princess grunted in pain and sagged, but didn’t go down. Her tail jabbed out and caught the Brother in the gut. It blinked in surprise then  _ laughed _ . An ugly, sneering sound.

Still gripping her polearm, the Brother smacked the hilt of it’s blade into her jaw, knocking her off balance. Then it dropped and swept it’s leg and sent her sprawling to the ground. Scorpia clung the halberd reflexively, which, as the Brother still had a steel-grip on it, made her fall all the more awkward.

Another arrow thudded into the assassin, followed by a howled shriek of rage as Perfuma charged forward. The ground around her seemed to be vibrating as if roots were trying to tear themselves free, or the very earth was reflecting the will of the dryad. Catra watched, mesmerised as the flower-princess leapt up, the soil itself pushing her into the air. Her bow draw, arrows ready….

The Brother turned and flipped the halberd in its grip. It hefted the weapon, then threw it like a javelin.

It hit Perfuma in the chest, right below her breastbone, and arrested her flight. The soil stopped shaking as the dryad dropped like a sack to land heavily on the ground, her bow clattering uselessly amidst the ashen refuse of burned tents.

“No! NO!” Scorpia shrieked and, with effort born of fear and grief, pushed herself upright. She tackled the Brother, or tried to. The Assassin just caught her with its free hand and twisted her arm to send the Scorpion princess back to the dirt.

Catra was back on her feet - the whole exchange had taken seconds. Far too fast. She was still processing.

With a snarl, her blades were out and she ducked towards the Brother. Another gout of flame announced Entrapta’s little machine. Except the Brother merely  _ took _ the flame to the face this time, then stepped forwards and slashed down at the small machine. It burst in a shower of sparks as the fuel reservoir inside lit. Catra was sent sprawling again, ears ringing in pain from the sudden blast.

She looked over to where the golems were locked in combat with the dryads, Glimmer and Bow. The smaller ones seemed wholly occupied by a snarling, tail-whipping Tong Lashur. Several of the copper machines lay bent and broken around the trees. But the lizard looked in fairly bad shape, covered in streaming cuts and face red with his own blood.

The larger machines seemed to be experiencing problems mainly due to how small their targets were. As she watched, Bow leapt back as one of the spherical machines tried to stomp him. Then the red gem in its centre glowed for a moment and flashed. Bow dove away just in time, but not fast enough to avoid all of the blast. He cried out in pain and Catra could see a nasty wound on his leg - a burn. But without flame?

Entrapta was having more success - she was atop the second sphere-machine and appeared to have pried open a panel. The machine was waddling in circles, trying to dislodge her, unsuccessfully.

Glimmer was doing her best, seemingly having decided that she’d take on the largest machine  _ solo _ . She flickered around it as the thing turned in a slow circle. Her staff flashed with energy whilst the machine tried to get a bearing on her. AS Catra watched, multi-jointed claws emerged from small hatches and tried to grapple for the teleporting princess.

They seemed to be… doing their best. Catra hissed and rolled upright. The Brother stood over Scorpia, seemingly having dismissed Catra as a threat. Its clothes were even more of a wreck, revealing ruined flesh beneath. Slowly, the unblemished mask rose to meet her gaze. Then it jolted forward, blade moving like a snake. Catra didn’t try to parry. Instead she dove to one side, rolled and came up with a slice of her own. The Brother had followed her movement, trying to shift stance mid movement, and was now forced to block her own attack. She followed up with another quick set of slashes from her two blades, but didn’t press - too aggressive and the Brother would likely use her own momentum against her.

She looked back over the Brother’s shoulder, an idea forming. Then she hopped backwards and ran, circling around one of the fires nearby. The Brother began to give chase, then paused. She slowed and the pair circled the fire. It seemed unconcerned - it’s prize was incapacitated, so it seemed content to toy with her for now. Catra smiled as the completed a half circle of the fire, then turned and ran for the largest golem.

She saw Glimmer duelling it, saw Bow staggering nearby, struggling to keep away from the stalking machine that hunted him. More of the copper-men were emerging from the trees, flanking the archer - but she cou;dn’t help everyone, “Sparkles! Get that thing over here!”

The Princess didn’t seem to notice her, up until she blinked away and reappeared next to Catra, “What?”

“We’ve been fighting two battles. We should be fighting  _ one _ . They aren’t working together… bets they don’t like each other?” Glimmer looked back and blinked as she saw the Brother stalking towards them. Except the assassin seemed to have slowed. Catra dropped back into a fighting stance, “Think you can keep your distance with the Brother while I lure big and shiny back there into the fight?”

“Worth a try, cat girl…”

“There’s the enthusiasm…”

Glimmer blinked away and appeared behind the Brother. A blast of magic caught it in the back and made it stumble, but it rallied and spun. Glimmer flashed away again adn the Brother tried to anticipate. The Princess was tiring though and the Brother seemed to have reserves for days. Catra had to move fast. More arrows flew in from a few remaining dryads, but they did little more than to distract the relentless creature for seconds.

She dashed to the massive machine and waved at it, “Hey! YOU! Want Princesses? Got two right this way, you hunk of metal!”

The machine plodded around and, somehow, seemed to regard her. Then it thundered towards her like a rhinodon, four legs pounding, multiple red lenses flashing with building energy. Catra swore and turned, then ran back towards Scorpia. Or rather, towards the Brother.

She dove over her friend and watched as Glimmer aparated behind the brother  _ again _ and caught the thing with another, slightly weaker, blast of pink energy. The assassin staggered backward, into the path of the machine. The Brother turned and caught a flailing limb smack into its front. The Brother went flying and tumbled over the ground, to lie still a few yards away. But again, it pushed itself back to its feet. Catra swore she heard bones snapping as it moved.

Beneath her, Scorpia whimpered in pain, “P...Perfuma?”

Catra swallowed, “I… not the time, Scorp. Can you move… I think we gotta…”

She looked up as the machine lumbered to loom over them. Catra noticed that its underside seemed to have a slight bulge, like a smaller mirror to the cage-dome above. With horror, she saw that bulge now unfurl like a metal flower. The claws began to reach for them, grasping, intending to scoop them into the machine’s interior.

With a flash, Glimmer was suddenly  _ there _ . She gripped the two of them, then. With a flash, they were clear, at least by a few yards. The purple mage seemed exhausted - clearly magic was far more draining than Catra had given anyone credit for. The three of them looked back to the machine, which seemed, somehow, puzzled. The claws were rooting around in the leaf-mold, trying to find where its quarry had gone.

With a flash of movement, the BRother was suddenly atop the machine, its movements sinuous as it balanced. They watched as the assassin hacked at the metal to little avail, then stared as the Brother flipped off the mechanical monster, only to be surrounded by copper-men that now seemed to have filled the camp. Catra groaned as she saw more of the figures jerking their uneven movements through the ruined tents and scattered fires.

“How many of these things we gotta  _ kill _ ?” she murmured.

A flash of light blinded them momentarily, then they watched as several of the copper-men tumbled apart, as if sliced by the sharpest blade known to man. A cackle made the three women look back and stare. Entrapta sat atop the second sphere golem, grinning like a loon. The machine walked unevenly, as if drunk. 

“I shall name her Emelia!” cheered the mechanist as she hauled on loose cables that protruded from the machine’s guts. The golem staggered about, red-lens flashing as the mad-mechanic hauled it haphazardly between copper-men, leaving a trail of destruction. The extent of her control was, however suspect, as, with a yelp, the golem cantered off into the trees.

Catra got to her feet and hauled Scorpia upright, “We’ve gotta get out of her. Glimmer, get Bow… we need to..”

“Where’s Perfuma?” asked Glimmer. Catra shook her head and Scorpia whimpered. Glimmer blanched. They briefly spared a glance to where the Brother was finishing off another copper-man. The white face turned their way and Catra cursed.

“Any more magic blasts left, Sparkles?”

“No… pretty done, I’m afraid.”

The assassin stalked towards them. Catra frowned - where was the machine? It had been  _ right th- _ .

Metal tendrils shot out as the massive machine came through one of the camp fires - it had seemingly scuttled away, seeking them and doubled back. The metal limbs knocked Catra away, which sent Scorpia tumbling as well. A pair of claws latched onto Glimmer who shrieked in fury. And then, like a well oiled trap, the claws hauled Glimmer into the machine’s interior. The lower dome snapped shut, sealing the purple Princess within. The vast mechanical construct rear and stalked backwards, turning slowly.

Catra groaned, her body aching from the sheer amount of times she’d been tossed about like some rag-doll. She was dazed, her ears still ringing. Her ribs felt bruised and she had a few superficial cuts from bad landings. With a hiss she managed to get to her feet  _ again _ . She couldn’t see Tong Lashur, or Bow. Around them, the camp was aflame. It seemed to have caught some of the trees too. The machine with Glimmer inside was stalking away moving fast. Catra thought she saw a flash of white among the trees, a distant battle cry on the wind, but the chimes in her ears and the ash in the air made it hard to see.

She turned to see the Brother mere yards away. Scorpia was knelt next to him, the assassin resting a hand almost  _ companionably _ on her shoulder. Its ruined body stark contrast against the immaculate white face. Catra rolled her shoulders and flexed her grip on her blades. Or blade. The other was lost somewhere  _ again _ . That was becoming a habit.

“Predictable. The Weavers know you, little sister. Know your ways. Your movements. Do not strike at us. Come  _ with _ us. You were one of us before. Find forgiveness. Cast out your shadows and join us once again.”

Catra hissed and pointed her blade at the Brother, “Let her go…”

The Assassin sighed and stepped away from Scorpia. Catra frowned, then stared as the ground next to Scorpia  _ stewed _ . Oily, black flames roiled upwards and then a new figure stood there.

A Sister.

The feminine figure, all red mask and flowing red robes, placed a hand on Scorpia’s shoulder. Before Catra could cry out, the flames licked up once more and the pair were gone. She stared at the empty space, the tip of her blade drooping.

“No….” she whispered. The Brother watched her and tilted its head.

“Join. Us.”

“NO!” Catra screamed, all pretence of control gone. She lunged forwards. She was dimly aware of metal on metal, but it seemed far away. In her periphery there was a flash of  _ something _ , a gust of warmer air that buffeted at her as she charged the Brother.

Her opponent  _ laughed _ again and batted her blade away lazily. Then jabbed her in the ribs with the hilt of its curved blade. Catra wheezed and staggered, then lunged again, trying for an upper swipe, aiming for the chin of her opponent. The Brother leaned back and traced a sharp , shallow slice across her upper arm. Catra cried out and stumbled away.

“Join. Us. It is your  _ destiny _ .”

Catra cried out again, adrenaline flooding her as she stabbed. The Brother just side-stepped and she felt hot pain run across her wrist. The blade dropped from her nerveless fingers . Her left hand came up.and she tried to claw at the Brother’s mask. A hand gripped her wrist and a fist punched her in the gut. She doubled over and the hilt of a blade slammed into the back of her head. 

She whimpered as she hung, limply, wrist gripped firmly by the Brother. She felt the cool edge of the blade at her throat. A formality - she knew that something coursed through her veins - death by another means. This… this would be a mercy killing. She heard the Brother sigh.

“Pity….”

She closed her eyes, awaiting the sting, then the release. It was  _ almost _ a relief. Except for her  _ failure _ . Who was still alive? Perfuma was dead. Scorpia gone. Entrapta? Bow? Glimmer? 

Then suddenly the blade was gone. There was a snarl of surprise from the Brother alone with a clash of steel. Ctra slumped to the forest floor and saw her wrist was bleeding from a nasty, thin slice. Clearly the muscles in her right arm were damaged.  _ That’ll make fighting harder…. _ Her woozy mind supplied.

Slowly, her gaze tracked up and she stared. A figure like a silver angel stood between her and the Brother. A steel sword held out to one side, gold cloak billowing in the moonlight. Blood dripped from the long blade and Catra could see the Brother clutching at a wound to its gut.

The pair stared at one another. Then, in a flurry of movement, came together - a hammer against an anvil. The two-hander against the curved blade of the Brother. The silver-angel kicked out and moved, but so did the Brother. Blades danced around one another, never quite meeting as the pair swayed back and forth, probing, testing. Like a sinuous dance, they stepped in and out of each other’s guard, dodging, ducking. The silver-armoured one spun the blade in its grip and tried to hook the legs of the Brother. The Brother nimbly danced out of the way and shifted stance, blade raised high, which it then brought down to force a block. But the silver-angel side-stepped and just  _ punched _ the Brother.

The assassin staggered away and the Silver-one followed slamming the pommel of the massive sword into the chest of the assassin. The Brother deflected, then tried a riposte, but the silver-one, gripping the blade like a staff, just used the tip of the sword to deflect the counter, then jabbed it into the shoulder of the assassin.

Back and forth, a mongoose and a snake, a deadly dance. The Brother scored a hit on the leg of the Silver warrior., blade slicing into the joint at the knee. The figure stumbled but grabbed the Brother’s wrist and laid another punch against that impassive mask. Another strike to the silver-one’s shoulder. Blood oozed but still they fought.

Catra felt her vision drifting. Sleep threatened to take her. Her eyes fluttered. The Brother, charging forward.The silver one.knocking the blade away. A mask, shattering under the blows. That seemingly invincible figure advancing. The silver-one holding firm, unbowed,

And then a shape loomed beyond the Brother. Rock and soil and roots? A sudden spray of gore…. Was she hallucinating? The night air was cool, the flames warm against one of her sides. The soil damp and sticky. Was it raining? Had it been raining? And rain wasn't sticky. She could only make out indistinct shapes.

Movement as the silver clad figure moved towards her, fast. She saw it remove something from its head, though her vision was blurring. And then clear blue eyes locked with hers. A voice from the past...

“You aren’t done Catra… not yet….”

Warmth suffused her then, as darkness slipped around her. She felt she should be worried but, for the first time in years, felt safer than ever. Arms held her close and she could hear, somehow, the steady, rhythmic beat of a heart.


	17. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment to take stock, to breathe. To find peace, at last.

The light hurt her eyes and she felt so so cold. She could feel the sweat beading on her skin, soaking through her fur. She shivered in spite of the sensation of churning heat nearby. Her eyes squeezed shut against the light and she shifted, her breath sudden and sharp.

Faint voices drifted to her ears, which twitched and she strained to hear as she came back to herself.

“...foolish to trust Hope. Not what you think,” harsh, old. Razz?

“They  _ saved _ me…” Familiar, distant….  _ Adora? _

“Pah. They serve themselves. You are of  _ use _ dearie.”

“They can  _ help _ her…”

“She will help herself. And  _ you _ can help her.”

“I… I’m just a solider. I’m… I’m not enough and… well, what  _ with _ ? She’s… she’s alive.. And I need to…” There was the thud of wood against bone - not hard but audible, a  _ klonk _ , “OW! What was that for?”

“You need to take that silly crown off and think for yourself for a bit. Silly girl. You’ll never bring her to visit otherwise! And we do make wonderful pies together.”

“You make no sense….. Ugh I don’t have time for this!”

“ _ Make _ time dearie. It is infinite….”

She shivered again and drew a sharp breath as pain lanced down her arm. It made her eyes flicker open and she blinked at a vision in  _ bronze _ squatting nearby. Reptilian eyes blinked at her and a toothy maw stretched into a grin.

“Tiny fluffy one is awake!” rumbled Tong Lashur. Catra was distracted from the pain and the nausea roiling around her by what the reptile was  _ wearing _ . He was covered in  _ bronze _ . Battered strips of metal, lashed together with what looked like thick cord. He had one of the metal golem’s heads, now bent out of shape, as a  _ helmet _ . His arms were clad in bronze armour made from what looked like  _ torn up _ pieces of golem. His breast plate was  _ made of a golem chest _ . He looked  _ shiny _ . Also, very pleased with himself. Though one of his eyes seemed milky and had a red scar over it.

Her world suddenly was obscured by a curtain of blond as a figure flew to her side. Blue eyes stared into hers as strong hands cupped her face, turning it from side to side. Fingers traced her forehead, pressing to feel for temperature. Those blue eyes roved all over her, worry clear within them.

No. Not just worry.

_ Fear _ .

Catra stared back her breath suddenly frozen in her chest. She swallowed and managed a choked out sob. Adora’s gaze locked to hers, the concern deepening. And then Catra lunged forwards. Her arms wrapped around the taller woman and she gripped hard. One of her hands threaded into the long blond hair and carded through it. She felt the silken smoothness as she coiled it around her fingers, her other arm pressing Adora hard to her, while she buried her face in the nape of the warrior’s neck.

It was like she was off balance, her walls reduced to nothing by exhaustion, the fever, the  _ shock _ . She’d buried it, hidden it. But now, with the  _ smell _ of her, the actual, physical  _ feel _ of her right  _ here _ . She was half expecting this to be a fever dream. That she’d wake up, sprawled on the soil, bleeding out from combat.

She idly registered that Adora wasn’t in her armour - just a simple white shift and grey britches. She shivered as she felt Adora’s arms wrap around her to cling just as tightly.

“I… I thought you were dead…” whimpered Catra, “Why? What?  _ How?” _

She heard Adora sniffle and then the other woman choked out a response, “You too…”

“Well… I just went up against a  _ Brother…. _ Not… not surprising….”

Adora pulled back slightly, so her face was mere inches from Catra’s and stared into her eyes, “No… when… when they took me. They said you tried to save me, that they… they tried to get you too, but that the Weavers shot you in the back…”

Catra blinked, “What?”

Adora nodded rapidly. Her face seemed drawn, tired, now that Catra looked at her. Was she sleeping properly? Resting? She had just attacked a Brother as well, after all… But Adora was speaking again, “I… I killed two men when they untied me, took five to restrain me… then they explained, told me what happened. I wanted to go back, to get you but they said you were  _ dead _ … Dead…”

Fingers corded through Catra’s hair and she felt herself relax. No one touched her hair, no one touched  _ her _ really. There had been moments, the odd tavern girl but…. THis felt more  _ real _ . Her friend her…. Well, she didn’t want to even  _ think _ . Couldn’t really, her mind was still foggy. She managed a gurgling chuckle.

“No chance… it’s me, remember… take more than an arrow… but…. But I saw  _ them _ kill you. I was sure. Then they took you?”

Adora gave her a watery smile and sank in to hold her close, “I’ll… I’ll explain. What I can. It still doesn’t make so much sense to me, but…. Well. You’re  _ alive _ Catra. You’re alive.” It sounded like a prayer, the way Adora said it. It made her relax more, made her insides warm. She shivered again and Adora pulled away, making Catra flinch a little. The blond looked her up and down with a pensive look, “The toxin isn’t quite  _ out _ yet. It’s a new one… Amazing you held it off… If I’d… if I hadn’t.”

The girl seemed to choke up for a moment, then took a deep breath and squeezed Catra’s shoulders. The cat girl frowned as Adora stood, “Wh...where’re you going?”

The blond sighed, “Need some more herbs. Perfuma should have a few more to hand, I’ll go get some. Need to make sure you’re  _ properly cleansed  _ or it’ll take days to work through and…. And it may leave permanent damage,” Adora bit her lip and Catra blinked. A wave of emotion hit her.

“Perfuma’s…. Dead. I saw. And… oh  _ Shadows,  _ Scorpia,” She felt her stomach lurch and she doubled over to one side. Her stomach roiled and she hacked up bile and rancid slime. Adora was next to her ina flash, rubbing her back. As the nausea cleared a clay cup was pressed into her hand and Adora brushed Catra’s hair away from her face.

“Scorpia?” Adora’s face seemed faintly  _ neutral _ all of a sudden. Catra didn’t quite register it as she nodded.

“Yeah, my uh…. Well one of my friends. Are they.. They ok? Weavers took Scorpia.”

Adora’s frown deepened, “The… Scorpion woman?”

Catra chuckled, “Yeah that one. I know, name’s a giveaway, right? She and I… welll, been working together a while.”

“Huh. Working huh?”

Catra glanced at Adora, noting the tone of voice despite her blurry senses, “Working, yeah. We’re mercs, Adora. Not all of us get to be fancy knights,” her walls were rebuilding slowly and she fought internally to not  _ go there _ . She’d just got this girl  _ back _ . But Adora’s sudden distance was strange.

“She, uh…. She your….”

Catra blinked. Then blinked again and her walls stopped climbing. She smirked, “My what?”

Adora blushed and shrugged, “Well. She’s a very…”

“I think Perfuma might object… or.. Or she would’ve…”

“Object to what?” A familiar voice short circuited Catra’s brain for a moment and her gaze shot up to look over the fire. Tong Lashur glanced from Catra to the suddenly  _ very much alive _ Perfuma and then grinned.

“Dryad. Tricky things, yes? See why I not want to deal with their  _ cow-dung _ ?”

Adora looked equally confused as she looked at Perfuma then at Catra. Slow realisation dawned, “So.. .Scorpia is… but… what?”

Catra pointed at the Dryad, ignoring Adora's won confusion and, maybe... hope? “Spear. In your  _ chest _ . You were  _ dead _ ! I… I SAW!”

Perfuma smiled at her, “Yeah that hurt. Took out the avatar I was driving. Had to make this one in a rapid fix… but it still takes time  _ and _ had to get from… well,  _ me _ to here.”

That explained exactly  _ nothing  _ in Catra’s mind. She shuffled away from her embarrassing accident and clutched the clay cup to her chest. Adora had vanished and Catra felt like there was something  _ unfinished _ there. She was about to huddle up when suddenly Adora reappeared with another cup and sat down next to Catra. As in  _ right _ next to her. Shoulder to shoulder. She held some ground up plants over Catra’s mug and dropped them in.

“Drink. And then if you spew, just aim away from me, ok?” Catra stared at her, but Adrora just held her gaze. There was a determination there. Gone was the distance from seconds ago.  _ Weird _ . Catra held her gaze as she drank, then grimaced at the taste. Then her eyes bulged and she spun away to retch again. Adora’s hands were on her back again, soothing, “Ok, that’ll help. It gets the toxins out of your skin and also forces it to move into your gut. Just need to keep your drinking for a few more hours and… well, should have you clear up. I’ve put poultice on your wounds and Perfuma’s seen to the cuts… you should be ok.”

Catra whimpered and sat back up. Her body felt so weak and she was about to topple over. Except Adora’s arms wrapped around her and tugged her back. She rested against Adora’s chest and smiled faintly as the blond pulled a fur blanket around the pair of them.

Perfuma moved around the fire and sat on a nearby log. Now Catra had a clearer view of her she could see that  _ this _ Perfuma seemed a little less put together. The hair looked more like grass, the skin more wooden. A mannequin compared to the sculpture she was before. Tong Lashur moved and stoof, “Will tell shooty one you are awake. Also  _ enthusiastic _ one. See if can’t drag away from metal cadaver. Very Reptilian attitude, making it her own!”

Catra stared at him, “What… what are _ you wearing?” _

“No meat. So, take next best thing. Definitely make Tong Lashur STRONGER. Hard to KILL! Was good  _ fight _ . Though they are hard to bite.”

“Your eye,” murmured Catra. The lizard shrugged, the bronze clanking on his form.

“Also two toes and three fingers. All grow back. Though vision will be, as tiny fluffy says,  _ weird _ for a bit. Dryad. Nightmare….” He nodded at Perfuma, then at Adora and moved away. Adora frowned.

“Ok… He’s an interesting one. You’ve got… interesting friends.”

“Jealous?” needled Catra. Adora stiffened then sighed.

“Just… feel replaced a bit, I guess?”

Catra chewed her lip and shivered again. She nuzzled closer, “I grieved, Adora. And then I left. It… it wasn’t the same,” The arms around her tightened and she heard Adora take a hitched breath. Catra turned her head awkwardly, and looked up at her old friend, “We definitely need to  _ talk _ through some stuff, don’t we?”

The blond girl smiled down at her. Catra noticed that Adora was wearing a crown. No, not a crown - more a circlet - with an inlaid blue crystal in its centre. It was barely noticeable, threaded into her hair as it was. It seemed to glitter in the firelight. Adora sighed and nodded, which drew Catra’s eyes to the girl’s lips. She felt her features blush slightly and her body felt warm all over again.

“Yeah… I know. But… hopefully we have time for that now? Maybe? But… why did you attack Glimmer?”

Catra sighed and shifted. She partly wanted to move away from the bigger girl, but Adora held her firm. She squirmed a bit and relented, then looked at Perfuma who seemed to be fairly impassive for the moment, “It was… we just needed a job that wasn’t grubbing for scraps. And… against my better judgement I thought the Weavers wouldn’t screw me over.”

Adora hummed a reply, “They’re evil, y’know.”

Perfuma frowned and looked across the fire, “Not inaccurate, but a bit basic.”

Adora shrugged, “They don’t have anyone’s best interests at heart. You saw the Brother… what it did. What it  _ was _ .”

Perfuma nodded, “I know. I did crush it, after all. But are the Hope any better?”

That made Catra blink, “Wait that was  _ you _ ? I thought I was just…”

Adora smirked and moved a hand to brush Catra’s hair back, “Never seen a Dryad get pissed, huh?”

“What, and you have?”

“I have  _ now _ . Knew there was a reason the Hopers kept telling me to be  _ careful _ around here.”

Perfuma snorted, “Yeah, they learned their lesson.” The Dryad and the Warrior eyed one another, “You’re not what I was expecting, Adora.”

“What were you, um, expecting?”

“A golem. When you’re in the armour you… you aren’t  _ human _ as far as I can tell. Nearly went for you, until I saw you with Catra…”

That made Catra turn her gaze away with a faint smile. She schooled her features and adjusted herself, “So, uh…. You got the Brother. Where’s…. Where’s Glimmer?”

Adora huffed, “ _ He _ got her.”

“The Brother?! But… I had him…”

“No… the Engineer. The golems were his. Hope knows why he sent them though. I didn’t realise anything was wrong. It was like I was blocked… and then it all hit at once and I came running. I saw the golems, saw Bow fighting, saw your weird… friend with the robots?”

“Yeah, Entrapta.. She gets that reaction…”

“Well, I um… I may have tried to kill her…” Catra blinked and twisted to stare at Adora, “HEY! Last time I saw you you had just, like, sliced through a load of people I knew! And had tried to stab Glimmer.”

“It was  _ ONE TIME!” _ wailed Catra. They stared at each other. Then the sheer  _ weirdness _ of the situation hit and they both snickered and collapsed back. Perfuma watched, faintly concerned. Adora sighed as they lay back, Catra still nestled against her.

“So, um… I just saw a crazy purple haired girl riding a robot and went for her… and then I saw your lizard friend hitting a golem with another golem. And Bow was in a bad way… and then I saw Entrapta  _ save _ him… and then I cut open the robot going for them both… and well, I can.. I can  _ track _ Glimmer…”

Catra looked at Adora with narrowed eyes now, “Oh you can huh?”

“It’s… kinda my  _ job _ ? I was assigned as protector to…  _ prevent _ this exact thing! Anyway, realised she was in the big golem and, well, I tried to go for it, but it was tough and… and then…” her eyes glazed over, “I… I saw you… saw the Brother… and… and….”

Adora’s breathing was harsh now, her eyes staring into nothing. Caatra’s ahnd came up and cupped Adora’s face and drew her gaze onto hers.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

The indomitable warrior, a woman Catra had seen  _ slaughter _ her way through foe after foe, crumpled and clutched Catra tight, “I lost Glimmer…. But… but. Never. Again. Never losing you.  _ Again _ . Never. I just  _ can’t _ . I can;t just… let go… and if that makes me… makes me a failure then  _ fine _ .”

They sat like that for another moment, like lost mariners in a storm. Then a gentle cough from Perfuma roused them. She looked distant, her gaze fixed on the fire, “Scorpia?” came her quiet words. Catra’s gut clenched.

“There…. There was a Sister. The Brother was meant to separate her out. Or maybe Glimmer. They just… took her.”

The dryad crumpled and shuddered, “She’s… dead?”

Adora was the one who shook her head, “No… no they, um… they want Princesses alive. It’s why I was ordered to guard Glimmer.”

Perfuma clenched her fists, “We need to get her back,”

“Hey, flower girl, won’t find me disagreeing… but… it’s the  _ Weavers _ . It took an army of fanatics to breach the place  _ once _ . And that’s  _ if _ they’re holding her at the monastery,” Catra shuffled upright, Adora still maintaining a faintly possessive grip against her. Not that Catra minded that, if she was being  _ completely _ honest with herself. It was a tense and stressful situation. They were just glad to see each other. It was like old times.

Of course.

She continued, “We know they need her alive. And Scorpia is  _ tough _ . We’ll find her.. .we  _ will _ . But… we need a plan. You saw what  _ one _ Brother managed. Now imagine a fortress of them. Of initiates. Of  _ Sisters _ who can go toe to toe with  _ mages _ .”

Perfuma glared at her, “So you’ll abandon her? Some friend you are…”

Catra met her gaze and stared, “I’m not going to  _ die  _ for her…”

“HA!”

“....not when I can live and do something to  _ actually _ help her. And we need a  _ plan _ , Perfuma. I’ve known her longer, know her  _ better _ .”

The Dryad stood and around them the trees fluttered, “I have seen her. Seen who she is, what she  _ wants,”  _ the ground rumbled, _ “And _ I will not abandon her.”

Catra kept her gaze on the dryad, “Good. She needs that. And before you get even  _ more _ possessive, I do NOT want her. Not in  _ that _ way. So, settle down. You might be able to take a spear to the chest, but if you have to regrow your body every damn time, what’re you going to do? Trek to the monastery until you win by slow attrition?”

She deadpanned at the dryad and Adora managed to cover a snicker with a cough. Perfuma glared at them, then sagged and began lacing her fingers together, “I just…. I just…”

The cat-girl nodded, “I get it. She’s my friend too. She’s been there for me. And I won’t abandon her. We just need to get the right place. To get  _ more _ info. And to make sure we don’t, like, die  _ properly.” _

Perfuma smiled sadly, “Well, I can’t… not unless they burn my tree down. And find all the roots. And, let me tell you, that would require excavating most of the forest.”

Adora blinked and stared at the Dryad, “That’s… kind of scary.”

The clump of feet on soil made the three turn and Tong Lashur stepped back into the firelight. He snorted, “What did Tong Lashur tell you? Dryads are  _ cow-dung _ . No point fighting unless have big fire. Unfortunately, fire no good in swamp, so yes… pointless. Here, little better, still get you skewered so, lose lose situation.”

Adora glanced at Catra who just smiled. Tong Lashur was followed by Bow and Entrapta. The archer looked battered - one leg was wrapped in thick bandages and an arm was strapped against his chest. Entrapta just looked  _ sooty _ . The only clear bits of skin were around her eyes, where her goggles had kept it clean.

Catra started to take note of the wider camp - other fires were burning, the refugees having returned. Some of them at least. Other dryads moved around, armed and ready. There were even lumbering things of roots and stone bolstering the camp security. She eyed Perfuma, “So, uh… why weren’t  _ they _ a thing before?”

She looked a little bashful, “Um… I... I’m not used to fighting. And I… they caught me off guard. It was like a shroud over my eyes, I could  _ barely _ see the Brother. And the Golems… it was like being close to a flame. They felt  _ wrong _ . The soil around them still feels tainted. I think… I think they actually  _ poisoned _ the ground.”

“Yeah I saw they were leaking some nasty stuff,” muttered Bow. He looked gaunt, a bit drawn under his dark skin. He eyed Catra and her position in Adora’s lap. His face was stony, “So, Glimmer got taken, huh Adora?”

She felt Adora shift uncomfortably, “Yes.”

“But _she’s_ still alive.”

A tension settled around the fire. Then Adora turned her gaze onto the Archer. The man leaned back slightly as Adora spoke, “I’m sorry, Bow. Your contingent of guards not enough? OH WAIT… you both slipped your escort to hide here. So, how’d the Dryad defence initiative work for you? Oh, it  _ didn’t _ ? And how;d your arrows do against a  _ golem _ ? About as well as my  _ sword _ ?”

Bow had the grace to wince. Catra squeezed Adora’s wrist and the tall woman subsided. She took the opportunity of Adora taking a breath to look at the Archer.

“Scorpia got taken too. We got blindsided by  _ two _ assailants. And… and Glimmer got taken saving  _ me _ . And trying to save Scorpia.”

He met her stare and then softened, “Well, we got utterly well…. Done in the scriptoral way, huh?”

Catra frowned and looked at Adora. Tong Lashur shrugged.,“He mean we got fucked good.”

“Ohhh yeah,” Adora intoned and nodded. Catra felt her head getting wooly again, her body wanting sleep. But this was important.

“So, um.. We need a plan. We… we can’t get Scorpia. Need like… an army.”

“Like… the army of  _ Brightmoon _ ?” offered Adora. Catra looked up at her. Bow frowned across the space at her. 

“Wait, what?” was all Catra could muster. Adora nodded slowly.

“We’ve got a Princesses down and someone else gone, for whatever reason. One we know we have  _ zero _ chance with. Like, we’d be better off just hopping into an actual mincing machine.”

“Don’t sugar coat it,” grunted Catra.

“A mincing machine lined with, like… spikes,” continued Adora. Catra tapped her wrist again and the Warrior blinked and nodded. Her gaze seemed to have gone vacant for a moment and Catra could swear the gem in that tiara was glowing now and then. Adora shook her head, as if throwing off an errant thought, “So,. uh… uh, we get Glimmer. All of us. And then, well…. We use that to get Brightmoon to get… get this Scorpia girl.”

Catra nodded slowly “I mean.. .would Brightmoon do that…? Considering?”

Bow was still frowning, “Tricky. Angella may be annoyed, considering  _ your _ involvement but… then again. Maybe? She might not want to get involved. Just compensate you for a lost comrade?” his gaze fixed on her, reminding her that she was responsible for several of  _ his _ lost friends. She pushed on, staving off the sleep that threatened to take her. But Adora had sparked something in her head. Clearly Warrior-Princess here knew about Scorpia on THAT front. Probably filled in by the others. And she could see what the girl was rooting at.

“Well… maybe. But… but think  _ politically _ . Scorpia is the PRINCESS HEIR of the Scorpion Kingdoms,” Adora looked down at her and nodded. Catra continued, “We know the Kingdoms won’t help up front, half of them want her dead anyway… buuuut think of the political cache Brightmoon could get from  _ that _ . Saving the  _ heir _ ? And what would that do for future relations, hmmm?”

Bow’s expression went very thoughtful, “That’s… not bad reasoning. Ok, well…. We need to rescue Glimmer first. Are you… gonna help?”

Entrapta interjected, “If it gives me a chance to see  _ more _ of this tech then…. Oooo yes please!”

Catra rolled her eyes at the inventor, then looked at Bow and nodded, “Yeah. I mean… chances of gold are high, right? Also, Scorpia is…. Is a really good friend. I can’t leave her to the Weavers. Whatever they have planned.”

She leaned back and her eyes fluttered. She felt Adora’s concerned gaze on her and pulled the girl’s arms tighter around her. The others were moving into a sort of  _ planning meeting _ . She managed to raise her head again and look at them. Bow was rooting around for a map. Entrapta was making estimates on a sketchpad. Catra caught things like  _ “...at estimate ambulatory speed…”  _ and “... _ with the terrain features here and here…”  _ as well as “ _...avoid population centres…” _

She felt Adora lay her back. As the blond moved to stand, Catra gripped her arms, “No… just… for a moment. Stay. Please.”

Adora’s face loomed into her vision. Those earnest features drawn into concern. Chapped lips, ruddy cheeks and eyes slate-grey and blue that seemed to want to read her soul. She watched Adora scrutinise her, then smile. The blond nodded, “As long as you need. Get some rest, Catra. You should be ok by morning.”

“Feel like I’ve already slept a week…”

“Only a day…” Catra tried to sit up  _ right then _ put Adora’s hand held her in place with shocking ease, pressed in between her breasts, “Ah ah.  _ Rest _ . Don’t make me hold you down.”

The world went static for a brief moment as Catra processed that. She managed to nod dumbly, the settled back down. Adora moved around slightly, clearing space, moving packs, then settled down next to Catra, her arms enveloping the smaller girl and holding her close. For a moment, Catra could imagine the world was at peace, that all her worries were gone. For now she just…. Desperately wanted to hold onto it.

The morning would bring trials. Tribulation. Death. But now. Right now... She felt  _ content _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because all of you have EARNED this. Have some soft ;) It's been a road buuut let's have a reunion with MINIMAL ANGST!
> 
> Oh don't worry, I'm gonna break things a tiny bit more... but not much. Because I like me some subversions. And also, Catra is not an emotionally traumatic WRECK in this. And Adora is mostly competent. If still a little bit situationally dumb. But, as some have pointed out, regardless of things... Adora has PRIORITIES.
> 
> Or a singular one. Any guesses?


	18. Pathways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream leads to reality, a new quest begins, portents are told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter update for the moment, to start our setup as we move into Act 2 essentially... but you've all been patient while I go HAM on my other works!
> 
> Laying the groundwork, wonder who they're off the visit now!

Her dreams were strange - normally they were flashbacks. Flashes of that Shadow cursed Monastery, or watching Adora fall under the clubs of the invaders. The eyes of the men and women she’d killed or the sound of flesh tearing as the Lizard clan tore each other to pieces.

But this one was different. This one  _ felt _ different.

Because in this one, she wasn’t the focus, wasn’t the instigator. No, this time she felt more like an interloper. Or an observer at least.

It wasn’t darkness that surrounded her - just deep blues that bordered on black. The floor beneath her feet was polished to a mirror like shine and the walls around sloped at odd angles, like strangely cut crystal. And, she realised, she wasn’t alone.

Ahead a figure knelt before a semi circle of women. Or what she  _ thought _ were women. They were identical in attire - hooded cowls, broad, pointed shoulder-pads and long robes. A simple mask adorned each face, impassive. They reminded her of Sisters, save for the fact their clothes were white or light blue in colour, the tones shifting almost hypnotically.

She stole closer, using a nearby pillar as cover. Stealth was her natural state, after all. The room itself seemed to be a sort of council chamber, with a dais at its centre. She felt a twinge of recognition for the person knelt in the middle of the semi-circle of motionless creatures. She couldn’t think of them as  _ living _ \- they were too static, like a frieze or statues.

As she moved closer, she finally caught snippets of conversation. 

_ “....ecure and protect. A disappointment…” _

_ “...fate placed two within your remit and you misplaced both…” _

_ “...because of a misguided bind to your past.” _

The figure nodded and looked up. Blonde hair spilled over shoulders that looked pale and wan. The kneeling woman - it was a woman - was wearing nothing but a shift and looked so  _ vulnerable _ .

The marionette-like beings continued, the conversation, or voice, emerging from each one at random. Though the voice never wavered, never changed, just echoed differently around the small gathering.

_ “A past that near sullied you….” _

_ “...until you were cleansed by Light…” _

_ “...and given Hope eternal….” _

_ “...purpose where before you had…” _

_ “...distraction.” _

The blonde head shot up, “No, not distraction…”

“ _ What else is it that which pulls you away…” _

_ “...from Written Destiny?” _

_ “What else is it that muddies…” _

_ “....goals and ideas…” _

_ “As decreed:” _

_ “Let go.” _

_ “Let go.” _

_ “Let go.” _

_ “Let go.” _

_ “Let go." _

“I can’t…. I  _ WON’T. _ I  _ need _ it…. After so long, is what I have done, what I have given? Isn’t it enough?”

All the marionettes spoke as one:  _ “NO.” _

A flash of light and the kneeling figure winced and whimpered. She fell onto her hands and blue eyes looked around in desperation.

“ADORA!” Catra didn’t even  _ think _ she just burst from behind the pillar and ran at full tilt. She had no blades, had no plan. It didn’t matter.

She’d seen the girl die once.

_ Never _ again.

As one, the marionettes looked at her. Her feet froze, despite her attempts to move. As one, all the figures cocked their heads to one side.

“ _ Interloper….” _

_ “...trespasser…” _

“ _...complication.” _

_ “You should…” _

_ “...not be here.” _

They all straightened their heads and spoke as one, “ _ How?” _

Catra snarled and tried to think. This was a dream, right? So… so maybe she could  _ think _ things into being. She tried, really tried, but nothing happened. She struggled against the floor which held her feet as if they’d been set in stone, “Let her GO! Don’t  _ touch _ her…”

_ “You misunderstand….” _

“ _...the intention. We are….” _

“.. _.giving her purpose. Squandered and abused.” _

“ _ We are cleansing her.” _

_ “Giving her Hope.” _

On the floor, Adora whimpered and pushed herself up slowly. Catra fell forward herself and reached out. Pain lanced through her.

_ “You are a distraction…” _

“ _...a nuisance…” _

“ _...an irrelevance.” _

_ “Nothing of value will be lost with you…” _

With a shriek, Adora got to her feet. It was a pounce and her fist connected with a white robe. It flickered and then fluttered to the floor, as if it held no solid mass beneath it. The mask clattered down. The other robes drew back, silenced. Adora glared around at them.

“Let.  _ Her _ . Go.”

_ “This is…. _ ”

“Let. Her. GO. I will  _ stay _ . But touch her  _ again _ ….”

The robes fluttered, the first sign of any emotion or real reaction. Then they drew closer. Catra slumped as the strange hold was released. The pain vanished. She looked up at Adora’s watery smile, confused. The girl nodded firmly, “I’ll be ok, Catra. I… will be. We will  _ both _ be.”

The masks turned to Catra and she had a sensation of being  _ pushed.  _ The chamber whipped away as she vanished backwards into the shadows. She screamed Adora’s name as she was both pushed and  _ pulled _ , her arm reaching out to…

She sat bolt upright and inhaled. The night air was chill and her breath misted as she breathed out. Around her, the campfires dwindling light cast long shadows over the mismatch of tents and sleeping rolls. Catra let her breathing settle then blinked and looked to her side. She stared at Adora’s sleeping form and shuddered with relief. Then she frowned - Adora was not at peace.

The blonde warrior woman was sweating and her head jerked from side to side. A whimper escaped her lips. Catra’s eye caught on the red gem in the circlet at Adora’s brow. Except right now it wasn’t red. It glowed with a faint blue luminescence.

Catra did  _ not _ like that gem. Not. At. All.

She reached for it, intending to rip it away and cast it into the darkness around the camp. But a gnarled fist closed around her wrist and stopped her. She flinched and had a knife out in a fraction of a second, only to find herself staring into Razz’s worried face.

“Don’t pull it away dearie. You’ll pull more than hair.”

Catra stared at the stooped old woman, then back at Adora. The glow was still there and the girl writhed. The assassin swallowed, “Then what… what do I do?”   


“Remember. And don’t let her go.”

“I’ll never do that. Not again.”

Razz peered at her, then released Catra’s wrist, “You saw?”

Catra nodded slowly, “I saw… something.”

“AH. Yes. Her. Them. Our  _ salvation _ ,” Razz sneered, “But C’yra, why are you not all ready in your finery? We must visit the ruins again some day. Commemorate the fall of Hope, yes? Bring Mara, she does like to remember.”

“I think you’ve wandered again.”

Razz smiled, “I always wander, dearie. It’s how we see the world. Fresh eyes, every day. And never let her go…” she tapped Catra’s chest, “from here,” then she tapped her head, “Or here. With that girl, you have to do the thinking for  _ both _ of you at times. Be kind. You will both need it. And be  _ honest _ . What you want, what she wants, what sort of food, where you wish to honeymoon.”

Catra sputtered, “WH….what? Adora is… is…”

“Yes, yours, we know. No need to go on about it Dearie,” chided Razz, “Now… sleep. The morrow brings strife and turmoil. The start of a journey. You have to save the shouty pink one.”

“And Scorpia…” murmured Catra. Her eyes were getting heavy. Razz smiled faintly.

“The tall, kind one, yes. She will be well. Foes no longer. Friends, acute, no longer upturned, now stable, will grant her safe passage. You will see her again, before the end.”

Catra slumped. But before she did, she dragged herself over to Adora and curled up against her. The taller girl stopped shivering, her whimpers turning to shallow breaths. Catra cupped her friend’s face and turned it to her, then pushed her forehead against Adora’s. Her brow met the gem and she felt a tingle, a sense of heat. Adora relaxed immediately.

“Never… let go. Again,” murmured Catra, and sleep took her.

  
  


\---------

Catra awoke to a foot nudging her. She startled awake, moving from groggy awareness to full alter as soon as she realised that Adora was gone. Her face turned up and she found Tong Lashur staring down at her, a lopsided grin on his reptilian features.

“Sleeping well? Bedwarmer good, yes?”

She glared up at him and clambered to her feet, “Yeah, sod off.”

“No, do not like topsoil.”

She made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, then shoved his shoulder, “Glad to see you’re still breathing after all that.”   


“Feeling is… mutual. Tiny fluffy thing being dead would make next few days  _ dull _ . We have plan?”

Catra cocked her head and gave the reptile a small smile, “Not cutting loose and trying to find coin?”   


“Have coin. Need a band. Means swamps,” he gave a discontented rumble, “Need to show  _ victory _ .”

She arched an eyebrow and gestured to his bronze armour, “And that isn’t enough.”   


“Pah.  _ meaningful _ . Wind-up toy-men not meaningful. But Weavers… there is tale for HATCHLINGS. Also, would be bored. You are not boring,” his tongue licked out and he glanced over to where Perfuma was bundling up several stacks of arrows, “Also, dryad. Might learn how best one! WOuld be useful skill. Always learning.”

“You’re suddenly chatty,” sighed Catra, her gaze distracted, “Where’s Adora?”

“Tall killing woman who scares me in cloaca? She go.”

Catra spun and leaned into him, “What, where?”

Tong Lashur didn’t move, just tilted his head and shrugged, “Do not know. She spoke to jumpy bow-man and then took scary horned white thing and went.”

She frowned at him, “Unicorn,” she muttered absently.

“Is what I said.”

She ignored the lizard and turned to check the camp. She found Bow nattering quietly to Entrapta and he stood as she approached, “Catra. You good to go?”

“Where’s Adora?” her voice was tight, urgent. Bow studied her face and frowned - not irritated, concerned.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“I just  _ woke up _ . She was right next to me… and now she isn’t.”

“I… I asked her, didn’t get much of an answer. She looked like she was on a mission.”

“What did she say?”

“Just… Hope. Asked where she was going, that’s what she said. Think it’s the castle…”

“We need to find her,” Catra didn’t know why, but she knew something  _ bad _ was happening. That dream had her rattled. If it  _ had _ been a dream at all. But Bow was shaking his head.

“Trust me, if they don’t want you finding it… you won’t. That place has  _ wards _ . Even Mystacor gives the place a wide berth. Don’t meddle in the affairs of the Hope of Light. And… we  _ need _ Glimmer, Catra. Adora will help, it’s her role, her mission. I’m sure she’ll just be at the castle to gather allies, then join us…”

“You don’t believe that,” Catra glared at him, but it wasn’t really directed  _ at _ him. He sighed and shook his head.

“No. But… I have to focus on Glimmer. I  _ have _ to. Catra.”

She didn’t have time forth this and turned away with a huff. But she paused and her shoulders sagged, “I understand. I do. I…. it’s why I can’t walk away from her,” her laugh had an edge to it, “Never easy?”

Bow was silent and she stalked back to her bed-roll. She wracked her brain - how was she going to track Adora, get her, then head to the Engineer’s fortress? It was like a list of jobs that just kept doubling every time she drew breath. Should she just trust Adora? Expect her to come back? Should she blindly charge into the woods on a fool's errand? She sunk down next to her roll mat and began to furl it up, but something caught her eye.

A glint of metal, against the straw-filled sack. She reached out and plucked it from the mat and peered at it.

A belt buckle.

Adora’s belt buckle.

What did it mean? Find her? A token? A parting gift? Or had it just… fallen off?

She scratched that last one - Adora was so put together  _ none _ of her gear would just fall off. This was intentional. But what next? Razz had said not to let her go? Did that mean not to let her go to the castle? Did it mean…?

Catra stood with a huff. She also had Scorpia to worry about - who was with the  _ Weavers _ . And now Adora just walked off in the dead of night? No goodbye? Nothing?

She wasn’t raging - she was hurt, however. A familiar despair hunted at the corner of her mind, old and dry. But she shoved it away and scanned the camp once more. Her eyes narrowed and she darted across the expanse of grass, pausing in front of the large cauldron where the refugees and pilgrims all gathered.

Razz eyed her from over the lip of the cauldron, “Lost something, dearie?”

“ENOUGH! Enough of the weird tricksy mind games, the weird askance comments and the cryptic clues.”

“Cryptic? Is that a type of bug?”

Catra glared at the wide eyed woman and exhaled, “Just answer me.”

The woman cocked her head, “Have to ask something first, dearie. Can’t bake without a recipe after all.”

“Where’d Adora go?”

“Away.”

“GAHHHH! Just….” she saw Razz’s face, full of innocent curiosity and… maybe, a faint smirk. She glowered, then exhaled, then held up the belt buckle, “Ok, fine. Why do I have this?”

“Because you found it.”

“WHY….why did she leave it?”

“Because she wants it back.”

Ok that was something, “Do I need to go help her?”

“Yes. But not now. Even with a dryad tracking her…. Well, you’d find the castle, but you can’t get in. BUT you know she will come to you.”

“Why?” asked Catra plaintively.

“You both have the same objective. She will just need to be reminded of what she left behind to get there.”

“What does that MEAN? Speak plainly.”

“C’yra, you hate it when I make it too easy. You hate not having challenges. Like blind idiot pie - guess the ingredients. BUT do not dilly dally. You have friends who need help sooner. Other friends who need help later. And friends you cannot help until the time is right. A question for you.”

“Uhhh…. What?”

“Do you trust Adora?”

No hesitation, no thought, “Yes.”

Razz nodded, “Then we have made the pie you wanted. She did tell you. DO not let her sacrifice be in vain.”

Catra tensed, “S...sacrifice?”

Razz looked sombre, “She stepped in for you, Catra. BUT... it is just for now. Just remember what I said, dearie. Now… breakfast?”

\-------

Catra wasn’t sure how she felt - three hours later she found herself out on the plains, heading westward. Tong Lashur, Entrapta, Bow and Perfuma in tow. It was a strange group, far changed from her little band of a few weeks prior. Right now, her gut was twisted with a worry she hadn’t felt in years. She'd been about to vault the cauldron, to demand answers from the dazed looking Razz, but Bow had, luckily been there, steered her away. She'd stewed for a bit, but a glance at the belt buckle and her trust in Adora persuaded her to commit to focusing on Glimmer. Her gut told her she was making the right choice

Now she was second guessing - a fatal flaw in any situation and not something she'd indulged in for years. She wasn't sure _why_ though - she hadn't seen Adora in so long... how did she _know_ this was the right course of action? What if she'd left her long lost friend to die in some ritual? Or that they were failing by not heading straight for Scorpia?

A hand rested on her shoulder as they trudged along and she glanced at Perfuma. The dryad’s current form was much more detailed and refined; she looked like a bronze skinned human, down to the pores in her bark-like skin. Catra stared at the forest-being, who smiled, “It’ll be ok.”

“How can you be so calm? You were ready to charge into hell for Scorpia… who you’ve known for days!” Catra didn’t shout, but her voice had an intensity that carried. The dryad’s smile didn’t falter.

“Souls last lifetimes, Catra. They are drawn to one another. And when you find yours, the one that meshes with you…. You know,” she leaned forwards, the straw-hair now more like reeds in water for how it flowed, “And  _ you _ know. I have belief that she is well. And that I am taking steps to ensure she will be so. I  _ trust _ you to make those decisions. Because Scorpia trusts you.”

“Trusted….”

The dryad’s grip became firm, “No… she believes in you. They want her alive. So, we’ll find her, and it will be well. And if it isn’t,” there was a faint flutter in the wind and the dryad’s features hardened momentarily, then relaxed again, “Well, it _will_ be fine.”   


Catra sighed and nodded, pausing only for a moment to look back at the distant line of the forest on the horizon. She felt like she’d left a part of herself back among those trees. As if she’d been given water amidst a desert, then had it snatched away again. And she wasn’t sure if she’d made the right call.

But to save Scorpia, they needed Brightmoon. And if they wanted Brightmoon, well. A sparkling Princess could probably persuade them. She turned back to the road.

They made good time, passing to the north of Scorpion Hill during the following day, camping only for brief respite overnight. They made pains to avoid the bandit groups, aided in no small part by Perfuma’s uncanny ability to use plants as  _ scouts _ . It was unnerving and made Catra glance askance at the forest-lady. Tong Lashur looked at her and shrugged.

“Dryads.”

The land turned from grassy steppe to sandy dunes and then to something more approaching grit. Bow complained about the texture, declaring he hated the coarseness of the sand. Entrapta found it equally frustrating for how it clogged her mechanism’s gears.

It was on the afternoon of the third day of walking that they finally found something approaching a landmark. Catra hadn’t been able to sleep and had spent the night oiling her blades and checking her armour, so she wasn’t as attentive. It was only Bow grabbing her arm that stopped her slipping down a sudden incline in the dune they were cresting.

She flinched but surprised herself by not opening the archer’s throat immediately. Instead she looked down the dune and stared.

The expanse of sand and rock before them was  _ littered _ with wreckage. Half buried buildings, in the style of Scorpion homes and fortifications; towering slats of metal; strange, bone-coloured fragments that looked like ribs. In the far distance she could make out a swirl of clouds above what looked like some sort of curved spire.

Catra blinked and took it all in.

“What  _ is _ this place,” she murmured. Entrapta looked up from her notebook and hummed.

“Oh. The Boneyards… periphery of the Frightlands. Site of the first documented sighting of the Engineer. He did this y’know?”

“Did… what?” Bow stammered as he looked around the blasted landscape.

She smiled distantly and shrugged, as if the words were so so simple, “Oh. He just killed the Dragons.”

The dryad hummed, “A feat, killing a dragon. Even I can’t remember them that clearly. But I know they were not an easy foe to best; armies laid waste, countries to ash and forests torched…”

Entrapta frowned and shook her head, “Oh.. Um no. Not just one dragon.”

The small group turned to her, but Tong Lashur looked amused, as if he knew the answer. “How many?” queried Bow, his gaze flitting back to the ruined city beyond.

Entrapta shrugged, “All of them.”


	19. Myths long dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journey continues. Thoughts are pondered, history contemplated.
> 
> But a path never runs smooth.

The group stared, dumbfounded as Entrapta, oblivious, headed down the dune, her spider-golem carrying her away at a sedate pace. Bow blinked first.

“Woawoawoa, you… you can’t just dump something like that and walk away!” he slid down the pebbled surface after the diminutive engineer whilst Tong Lashur just chuckled. Catra gave him a glance.

“Something to add?” she smirked. The lizard rolled one meaty shoulder.

“Interesting. Rumours, myth say, we are dragon-kin. I think is cow-dung. What fiery lizard choose swamp? Eh, no,” he swung his monitor-like head to her, “Truer to say we slaves of dragons. Best day for my kin when dragons all go pop.”

Perfuma grimaced, “I remember that day…. I was but a bare sapling, still young in my mother's grove. Hadn’t chosen my final rooting, or which strand to make my own… the… loss of them. I hadn’t even seen one. And then they were gone.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “So the Engineer is super old then? That’s what I’m getting from this. Because no one’s seen a dragon in what, fifteen generations or so?”

Tong Lashur nodded, then started to descended the dune. Perfuma clicked her tongue and glanced at Catra, “He’s not chatty is he?”

“He has his moments,” murmured the cat-girl. She glanced behind them, eyes straining for any tell tale dust clouds that could indicate an approaching rider. But nothing was forthcoming. She sighed and gestured down the slope, “Guess we better get on. Into the boneyard.”

The dryad nodded absently and they set out. The group reunited at the base of the slope and began to trudge through the ruins. The buildings were spaced out, covered in centuries of shifting sand and rubble. Here and there, vast bones jutted to the surface - ribs fifty feet high, the odd tip of a gargantuan skull. Catra couldn’t help but be impressed. The bones weren’t part of whole skeletons - they were spread out, far to the horizon. She frowned.

“When you said… pop…”

Tong Lashur nodded, “Was big. Made Dragons… spread out.”

“Huh,” mused Catra as she stared at another lone rib that arched over the bare excuse for a road they were walking down. Entrapta paused, her spider-golem shivering as its little engine rumbled.

“It is  _ fascinating _ . We know that the Engineer has survived for generations. His arrival triggered the cascade, the event that killed the dragons and, if some legends are to be believed, damaged the flow of magic across the lands. Made it more inaccessible to most.”

Catra folded her arms and stared up at the bleached bone and shivered, “So he’s super powerful? How’d he kill them  _ all _ ? Everywhere? At the same time?”

“Oh well… lots of theories. The scholars of Dryll believe he made use of some sort of artificial runestone but that it somehow harmonised with… well, the very  _ essence _ of the dragons. And, well, that didn’t agree with them and it kinda made things go KABLOOEY. Alchemy, magic… iteration is always important. Some of the great houses and alchemists have tried to journey the Frightlands, to find his workshop, or to breach the Brass citadel. Never works, of  _ course _ .”

“And we’re gonna rescue sparkles from a guy who can murder myths  _ simultaneous _ across the world,” Catra realised the absolute insanity of it. Entrapta just shrugged.

“Eh. That was probably an accident.”

They group stared at her again. Bow blinked, “If that was an accident, then what can he do  _ on purpose _ ?”

The Engineer shrugged, “Send more golems at us? Look at the evidence, deduce! If he had the power to, at will, influence our bodies,  _ at distance _ and induce set states… why send golems? Why not just, well, incinerate the people he didn’t need and transfer the Sparkly loud one directly?”

“That…. is a very good point,” mused Perfuma, “And, well, I didn’t sense any overt remote influences, despite being… distracted. Something on that level I’d have at least noticed.”

“Precisely,” continued Entrapta. She fished out her notebook and flipped to an earlier page, “We know mages can manipulate reality, at least on the local level,” Catra shuddered briefly, “But all accounts of the Engineer have indicated a distinct  _ lack _ of magical intent. Just mechanical ingenuity.”

“Why so interested?” queried Perfuma as she too took in the vast rib, “I mean… I just realised I haven’t actually asked much about you!”

Entrapta shrugged, “People don’t. Mainly because they’re usually  _ on fire _ or shooting at us or we’re running away from guards. Though that one time was because I set fire to an apothecary’s kitchen…” she trailed off then blinked, “Or that one time that I…”

“Entrapta,” Catra smiled at her friend and gestured at the rib, “Focus? How’d you know so much about this guy anyway? I mean… we all  _ know _ this place is just… awful. But I get the impression you know more. And… why has that never come up?”

“You never asked,” there was no rancour there - just fact. Entrapta gestured around them, “Scorpia might know more about this area. IT was part of the Kingdom of course. Dragons weren’t exactly… plentiful and stuck to more arid or remote areas. You can find most of their remains in the Crimson Wastes, here, the Frostan Clan-fields… rumours of some Sea-dragon remains under the sea.”

“Who cares about bones?” muttered Bow. He kept glancing around them, uncertain. Clearly expecting another golem to lurch from the shadows at any moment.

“Well, not the bones in their entirety. But find some dragon scale, or any part of the bone that’s not been too eroded and, well, that’s some quality ingredients or armour right there. Also dragon bones normally indicate a likely hoard nearby so, I suppose, most people are after that. Picked clean by now, but people try.”

Catra nodded to herself, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested.”

“Oh, well, the Library of Dryll has tomes and tomes on all this. And I am  _ fascinated _ by machinery! Building it, dismantling. And the Engineer creates the most  _ advanced _ mechanicals in the world… but does  _ nothing _ with it! We have waterwheels, windmills, screw-pumps, the odd golem… but  _ nothing _ comes close…” she sighed and clenched her hands together in front of her stained leather apron, “The chance to see  _ more _ of those creations up close! I’ve only been able to go off of second hand drawings or scavenged scrap from the edges of the Frightlands. And now! NOW WE’RE GOING TO THE BRASS CITADEL!”

The other four exchanged another glance. Catra didn’t know all that much about Entrapta’s history - she was human, yes, but she had weird aspects to her - prehensile hair, some sort of strange history with the people of Dryll. An uncanny ability with machinery. And Dryll was like Mystacor -least said the better. A great library, a place of alchemy and study. A city that was devoted to the investigation of the material. Where Mystacor was a seat of oligarch sorcerers and their reality-bending  _ aresholery _ and Brightmoon was a place of snobbish philosophy, Dryll was pragmatism and scarily loose when it came to  _ people _ .

Entrapta had always seemed like she was going along with Catra’s adventures out of boredom - something to pass the time. She was loyal and reliable, but there was still that strange detachment the girl possessed.

This aspect of her, the fact she was animated like this; it only came out when she was faced with something she found a  _ challenge _ . Her exchances with the Archer had appeared to be mostly around the mechanics and they clearly had a kindred bond there. But this was on a separate level. She seemed  _ excited _ .

“Well, don’t get carried away. He may just want to crush us under the weight of his golem army,” she deadpanned at the Inventor. For her part Entrapta just grinned.

“And that would be  _ amazing _ . I learned so much dismantling the last few we encountered. Imagine what we could learn from a whole  _ army! _ ”

Tong Lashur rumbled and turned away from the bone, “Waste of bone. Not flesh to remember, no memory within stone. Pointless,” he looked at the group, then pointed at the sky, “Shelter, food. Sun set soon. Not know what is in Frightlands. Not good with name like that,”

The group trudged along a little further, another couple of hours into the desolate space ahead of them. Buildings were harder to make out, mostly covered as they were, and the bones were mostly shattered rock and fragmented shards. Plants were scrub-like - tufts of hard grass or resilient cacti. As the sun began to sink, they sought shelter in one of the few visible homes.

The old Scorpion house, it turned out, was a two storey affair - with only the upper level being barely visible above the sand. Most of the lower floor was concealed under centuries of detritus and sand that had flowed in, but they were able to set up a campfire just outside and cleared out a space in the interior for bedrolls. Perfuma took the opportunity to vanish into the darkness to ‘hunt about a bit’. Tong Lashur had sunk down low near the fire when she’d said that; a comical sight in his dented brass armour. The Dryad returned half an hour later with a brace of strange feathered lizards slung over her shoulder, which they promptly set about cooking.

Better than digging into the hard tack rations or other bits of emergency supplies that Razz had loaded them up with. The five of them sat around the fire in relative silence as the meat cooked and sizzled. Catra held Adora’s belt buckled in her hand and stared at it, the flames glinting off of its metal surface. A stylised wing-shape, it looked well crafted and not just hammered out of tin. Her eyes tracked up and she watched Bow check his arrows. Perfuma sat next to him as they compared their various fletchings and the bows propped next to them. Tong Lashur chewed idly on a piece of his dried meat and stared out into the darkness, back towards the black silhouette of a distant dragon-bone.

Entrapta worked away on her repurposed machine, tinkering quietly with an array of tools that she  _ somehow _ fit into her satchel. Catra frowned, then stood and moved over to the girl. She squatted down next to her and watched her work for a while, “So… what’s the deal, ‘Trapta?”

The girl didn’t look up. Her tendril hair flicked about and retrieved tools, “Deal?”

“I mean, we’ve travelled together for a year now… and, well… I guess being  _ here _ got me thinking. What are you after? In general. Hanging with me and Scorpia, doing jobs…? That’s not a future. I mean, look at you! You can bring metal  _ to life _ . So… what’s the deal? You seem to be so happy to be here.” Catra splayed her hands. Entrapta sat back on her heels and stared at Catra.

“You don’t… want me to stay with you and Scorpia?” her brow furrowed and Catra blinked in surprise, her blue and gold mismatched eyes widening in shock.

“What? No… I mean yes, I… I would like you to stick with us. If you want. And when we get Scorp back. And…” her mind drifted for a moment. Would she want to keep doing this? SHe’d found Adora and part of her brain had just said  _ that’s it, done now _ . But what did Adora and her  _ mean _ ? Would Adora drop the Hopers to… what? Go adventuring? Do jobs?  _ Settle down in a village and…. _

Ok where had that one come from?

E ntrapta blinked, “You’re blushing. Did I say…”

“Uh, um… not… not you. But… I was,” she shook her head, trying to dislodge a very  _ comfortable _ image from her mind, “Distracted. But, Entrapta… you’re just amazing with these things - why are you doing mercenary work?”

The Inventor gave a timid shrug, “Not much call for… engineering skills. Build an irrigation system, all it needs is maintaining. Same with mills. And I don’t do manual construction. People take offence when you offer to build a machine that can do the work of five labourers. I’ve been chased out of more villages, you know? And, well… it’s been  _ nice _ having something permanent, y’know?”

Catra stared at her, then smiled, sadly, “Yeah… yeah I can see that,” she looked out, into the lengthening dark of the evening, “So, Dryll. That where you learned all this?”

“Oh yes. And, um, other things. And the hair. People always ask about the hair.”

“You never did ex-”

Entrapta gave an uncomfortable shrug, “I think I said once. Gorgons.”

“But… they... and their  _ hair _ isn’t contagious!”

“No but magically aligning and utilising resonance structures along with an alteration formulae within a viscous concoction of various Gorgon elements and… I’ve lost you. As I said. Splicing. And. Gorgons.”

“Something you did or something the people in Dryll did?”

Entrapta met her gaze, “Yes.”

“Allllright. So, you’re our resident Engineer expert. What can we expect?”

“Oh, um… well,” Bow and Perfuma had turned to listen in, albeit not very subtly. Tong Lashur…. Well he was so still he could’ve been dead, “We know he has advanced automata…. Golems. And that some of them are equipped with weaponry that outmatches our own. I’d expect the Brass Citadel to be an absolute honeycomb of traps, advanced security mechanisms and who knows what things that he has attracted to him. Not many  _ people _ come this way, but that isn’t to say the Engineer hasn’t crafted alternatives.”

“So, mercs? Bandits perhaps?”

“Perhaps. We know he is capable of destruction on a large scale. I would recommend we avoid a  _ direct _ confrontation until we know how many automata we are facing and the level of threat we can expect to find. Also… we need to know where they have taken the pink one.”   


Tong Lashur rumbled a chuckled from beside the fire. Bow looked worried for a moment, “You… think she’d still alive?”

Entrapta nodded, “He wouldn’t go to this trouble, I believe, unless he needed her intact. It’s unlikely he would kill her. Whether she’s in a suitable  _ state _ when we arrive…”

Bow looked stricken and Catra tutted at the purple-haired Engineer, “Not a helpful comment, ‘Trapta.”

“Oh, um… well, I’m sure she’s fine…”   


They lapsed into silence. Bow shifted and peered at his arrows, idly fiddling with one of the mechanisms at the tip. They were more of his trick-shot variants. Liable to explode into a net or glue or… whatever. Catra leaned back and then nudged Entrapta, “Not exactly reassuring, ‘trapta.”

“Well, um… I mean he went to the trouble of taking her alive. Most interactions with the Engineer or, at least, the golems he uses have been.. Fatal.”

Perfuma patted Bow’s knee then cocked her head at Catra and Entrapta, “Are we sure he’s… even alive? Sure, he took out the dragons and then we have golems roaming the Frightlands… but maybe that’s all that’s left? No one’s even  _ seen _ the Engineer. Not in living memory.”

Tong Lashur rolled one eye open, “Whose living memory?” Perfuma smirked.

“Fine… no  _ human _ living memory. And that was only from explorers who wandered out of the Frightlands half mad,” she saw their questioning looks, “What? People travel through the forest. They talk. I hear things. You saw! Camp of refugees. I don’t just… stay bored in the woods. I like to hear things too!”

Catra smirked, “Hey, no one’s judging Flower girl. Just… not expecting a dryad to be all that up to date.”

“Only on food items,” grumbled the reptile by the fire. Catra stood then nudged him with her foot, “What?”

“Get inside. If I know deserts and… this feels like a desert… it’s going to get cold. And you, my friend, are not exactly built for that. Get one of your heat lamp things setup.”

Tong Lashur grinned, “Tiny fluffy think shows empathy.”

“Eh, I have my moments. I’m on first watch. Everyone else, shut eye.”

The dryad stood, “I don’t mind, not exactly… well… normal, am I?”

Catra cocked her head, “No offence, flower girl, but we’re a bit away from your tree soooo… I don’t want to come out and find you’re a pile of kindling because you forgot to meditate or commune with what passes for plants or whatever. So, we do normal watches. Bow, get your head down, you look  _ ruined _ . Entrapta….  _ Sleep _ .”

The Inventor grumbled but nodded, then packed her tools away. The golem next to her whrired to life and plodded next to Catra. Entrapta tapped it a few times then nodded, “Em here will keep guard too.” The cat-girl eyed it suspiciously.

“How does it even… know? I mean your old one, you had to drive the thing,” which was true - Entrapta using the machine like a weaponised extension of her hair, basically. But this thing was… self propelled. More so than the tiny predecessor. Entrapta frowned and tapped the gemstone set in the front.

“Mostly mechanical, but the gem has  _ something _ to do with it. There’s a rudimentary switching system internally. It’ll pick up vibrations, but won’t  _ do _ anything until you tell it to. So, not  _ smart _ but responsive.”

Catra grunted then nodded. As the rest of the group filed inside, she kicked a load of gritty sand atop the fire, dousing the flames, then scampered up to the roof of the building. It gave her a good eye-line across the black and her eyes easily adjusted to the night. Colours gave way to greens and grays, details sharper now than during the day. There was a faint haze in the air, something they’d seen during the day but had taken for distant heat haze. Except the desert wasn’t  _ baking _ . It was warm, yes, but had a continuous breeze that stirred the sands.

Now, the temperature dropped and Catra shivered despite her fur. Not the same cold as the Frostan wastes, no. But a chill hung in the air as the sand gave up the heat it’d soaked during the day. The cloudless sky held no warmth and the stars seemed distant, faint and uncaring here.

She huddled against the lip of the room, back against some rubble and peered out. Still no sign of dust, to indicate a speeding rider. Where was she? Had the Hopers decided she was a liability? Had they sent her elsewhere instead? Had she run into trouble? Or maybe… maybe she had decided not to come at all?

Her hand fell to the belt clasp and she smiled thinly.

Yeah, no. Not that last one. She’d seen Adora fall trying to get to her in the Monastery. She’d seen the girl throw her to safety. She’d seen Adora take on a  _ Brother _ before saving the  _ Glimmer _ .

If she wasn’t here yet there was a good reason. And likely not of Adora’s choosing.

Part of her wished she’d gone to the Hoper’s castle. But that dream surfaced in her minds eye. Maybe that was why Adora had gone so early? So Catra  _ wouldn’t _ go with her?

When the girl got back, they were going to have  _ words _ about who got to be a martyr for whom. Catra wasn’t going to lose the love of…

She blinked at the thought again and swallowed. No. They were friends.  _ Good  _ friends who had survived everything the world had thrown at them. She was going to stand by Adora. They were going to get through this then decide what to do. Like adults. With a world before them.

Not like some bad Brightmoon Mummers romance.

She swallowed again and decided that she had completely convinced herself of the notion.

Friends. Old friends. Because that’s how Adora saw her, of course. Never had expressed any sort of inclination to the contrary. And yet those tear filled eyes, the breath on her face.

_ Friends. _

Movement caught her eye and her heart skipped a beat, only to settle into her gut. Carefully, she crawled to the edge of the roof and peered across the flat expanse. The view was broken up by rubble and the odd shattered building. But there, moving between rocks, was the unmistakable, jerky movement of golems.

She country twenty, along with two of the big spider-like ones. Like the one that had taken Glimmer - a hemisphere, the curve at the bottom, with a smaller hemisphere at the top - likely a sphere, actually, set into the larger upended dome beneath.

But these two looked  _ cruder _ than the one they’d fought in the forest. The limbs were mere scaffolding - bare metal struts. The hemisphere was patchy, scrappy even. And they moved in a ponderous, deliberate fashion.

She watched as the group approached a building, then set about hacking it to pieces. Flashes of light showed some of the smaller, bipedal golems were using strange tiny flames to burn away at the stone of the wrecked building, cutting it to pieces. Others were taking the chunks and loading them  _ into _ the pair of larger walkers.

Soon, the building had been reduced to nothing, but then the bipedal golems began to dig down, excavating further, extracting what looked to be metals, clay, stones and…. Catra blinked as she saw the golems haul what looked like a desiccated  _ corpse _ from the rubble - the mummified remains of one of the former citizens? That too was loaded into the larger golems.

Soon, the little scavenger team had finished. Catra considered rousing the others but the golems were steadfastly focused on their task. Catra wondered if they even bothered with security, considering how rare visitors were to the Frightlands. They hadn’t seen anything hostile during the day. But then again, they were far from the Citadel.

Once they were done, the two bigger golems trundled off, back towards the distant tower. The bipedal machines followed, falling into neat lines. Catra watched them go, puzzled.

Was that all they could expect? Run down, rusted machinery? Breaking down the ruins of old structures to… what?

Her gaze tracked to the distant clouds and dark spire of the Citadel. Legends about the place were garbled and incoherent. Some said it had appeared, fully formed. Others that the Engineer had just built it over time, after arriving inconspicuously. Others said it had always been there and that he’d just claimed it. Or that the spire WAS the Engineer, some eldritch horror of machinery that sought to claim the world.

If the last one was the case, he was doing a piss poor job of it. Especially if those golems were anything to go by.

Catra settled back and kept watch. No more golems wandered by. Nothing stirred. She only shifted again when Bow came to relieve her. She gave him a brief account, then slunk to her bedroll, where she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

\-------------------------------------

The following day brought an early rise and the group made their way ever closer to the Citadel. They could make out more of it now - not just a tower, but a wide expanse of jagged spires and what could be buildings. They were a good day or so hence - no hills or major obstacles between them.

The group had taken the information about the golems as a promising sign - likely that the Engineer’s works were in disrepair. But Catra was still unsure - the ones that had attacked them had seemed  _ newer _ . Maybe it was a sign the Engineer was planning something else?

Entrapta found the whole idea intriguing, though, “I postulate that the Golems are perhaps running some sort of endless loop. If the Engineer is… sadly… deceased, then maybe they are running on their last commands, which was to find local resources. That would account for the distinct lack of major resources or landmarks around the Frightlands, as well as the constant expansion as they move further afield.”

“But why a Princess, then?” queried Bow. he looked a bit more refreshed today, more like a soldier. His bow was shouldered and he seemed to making a  _ map _ as they walked. He caught her gaze and shrugged, “Keep the mind busy, y’know? Actual  _ intelligence _ on the Frightlands? Cartography?”

“Yeah, map out all the  _ empty space _ , arrow boy.” she smirked, then looked back at Entrapta, “But he has a point. Why bother? What does he need a princess for?”

“Why do the Weavers? I mean, we don’t know their motivation much beyond ‘ _be creepy’”_ sighed Entrapta. She was sat atop Em-2 and reached down to tap the gem set at the front of the spherical machine, “Perhaps… magic? Princesses and roal lines often hold the most concentrated _ability_ with it after all. And these golems, or the more advanced ones, do appear to have something _enchanted_ about them. So… maybe she could be used as an easier _source_?”

Bow shivered, “And… what would that entail? Sacrifice?”

Entrapta shrugged, “Not a magical scholar. I dabble in the theory. But, no. A sacrifice releases a  _ lot _ of magical energy. And unless you have some way to harness it, channel it… well… example a - the  _ dragons _ …. That shows why it can go badly.”

Catra grumbled, “Yeah… give yourself room when you kill a mage. Took me weeks to grow my fur back…” she blinked at the admission and realised everyone was staring at her. Tong Lashur’s tongue licked the air and he started to vibrate. He was  _ laughing. _ Perfuma bit her lip and Bow twitched.

“You were… naked kitty,” chortled the lizard.

“Only on my… yeah, well… I got my front a bit  _ singed _ ok? No big deal…” she hugged herself, but the others were corpsing like crazy as they tried to not laugh. To be honest, the memory was kind of funny - she’d finally caught the reality bending arsehole and hadn’t been her normal cautious self. He hadn’t gone up like a candle like some did, but had rather  _ exploded _ as his last spell backfired. She’d been lucky - half the room had been turned into twisted wood and fluttering paper. She’d lost her eyebrows and most of the fur from her face and forearms.

She’d taken to wearing a full mask for a month after that little incident.

She grinned and shook her head, “All right… like none of you had anything bad happen in the course of duty…”

Bow deadpanned, “Well, I got my ass handed to me by a cat once…”

“Oh yeah? How’d you deal?” she quirked a grin and he rolled his eyes.

“Not quite sure yet. Workin’ on it.”

Entrapta wasn’t listening. Instead, she was stood atop Em-2 peering into the distance, “Um….”

“Well, if we’re doing embarrassing stories… I once fell  _ out _ of a tree…” winced Perfuma, “Like, what kind of dryad falls out of a tree!”

“Uhhhhh guys?”

“Not so bad. Once forgot to ritually skin enemy. Had no rations for two week! Very embarrassing. Had to eat  _ vegetable _ ,” Everyone stared at him. Tong Lashur shrugged, “Not funny?”

Catra snorted, “No. Definitely not. Informative though.”

“GUYS!”

“What? What’s your story then?” Bow glanced up at her then paused. Entrapta had a tupe to her eye - a thing of brass. Catra knew it was some sort of spyglass thing that made things look bigger. She frowned and followed the line of sight. Her heart beat as she saw dust clouds.

But they were coming  _ from  _ the citadel.

Something… or a lot of somethings… moving very very fast.

Right towards them.

“Entrapta?” she clambered up the golem to stand beside the diminutive inventor. Wordlessly, the girl passed her the tube and Catra brought it up. She wasn’t used to the damn things, still. She had to remember to close one eye.

She inhaled sharply.

They looked like  _ chariots _ . Except in place of a horse between the traces and shaft was a single, rolling ball. The chariot behind had large wheels with spinning blades extending from the axle. And mounted,  _ literally _ mounted to the chariot cat was a single ‘rider’ - a metal torso akin to a child's model of a man - conical head, inset with a single gem, barely visible at distance.

There were three chariots and each… rider wielded what looked to be a cross between a billhook and a scythe. Something akin to a bow looked molded to their off-hand. Or maybe it  _ was _ their offhand. Catra couldn’t tell. She swallowed and handed the device back to Entrapta.

The others looked up at her, “What’s going on?”

“Looks like we’re about to find out why no one gets out of here alive…” she exhaled. Her gaze took in their surroundings - open space, no real shelter aside from occasional rubble piles. No way to out run them either - they’d tire before the machines, obviously  _ and  _ the things looked fast. She drew a breath, then pulled her blades, “Chariots… or something. Can’t run. Can’t hide.”

Tong Lashur rolled his shoulders and drew his scimitar. Perfuma blew out a breath and unhooked her bow. Entrapta unfolded her pack and began rooting through it. Bow frowned up at her, “Fight?”

Catra nodded and hopped down, fixing each of them with a steady gaze, “Fight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one as I COULD go into a big ol' fight scene BUT that's a LOT and I kind of want the focus of next chapter to be a rather intense fight...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed our little INFO DUMP and potential world building. As ever, feedback is ALWAYS appreciated.


	20. Draw back a curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combat ensues against a tenacious and strange foe. The group knows their destination.
> 
> But all is not as it seems in the Frightlands.

Time. Time was  _ not _ on their side. They had minutes. And they weren’t exactly equipped for counter-cavalry engagements. No spears, no phalanx, no pitfalls…

Catra had one rule for fighting mounted troops in an open field:  _ don’t do it _ . They had an inherent advantage of speed, power and  _ range _ . You couldn’t hit them on the fly and trying to grapple someone off a horse was a good way to find yourself  _ under a fucking horse _ .

Chariots were worse - normal chariots of course - because you had  _ two _ horses and archers and SPEARS. She’d gotten very lucky when she’d tackled Glimmer and Bow, because their chariot had been going at a walking pace. And she’d removed the horses from the traces with ease.

Fewer horses were better, in Catra’s opinion.

Of course, these chariots had no horses… they were worse - they had rolling spheres. A horse you could, at a push, spook or hobble. How did you hobble a  _ ball _ ?

She cast about their surroundings, whilst Perfuma and Bow checked their quivers. Entrapta, still atop her mechanical golem… thing… was rifling through her pack. Tong Lashur stood and rumbled low in his throat. One slitted eye glanced her way.

“Plan?”

“I’m all ears…” Catra chewed her lip and eyed the approaching dust cloud.

_ No cover, no spears no… wait. Pitfalls _ .

“Perfuma!”

The dryad looked over and frowned, “Yes?”

“You, uh… you went… all big and  _ earthy _ on that Brother, right?”

“Um… earth-y… oh.. OH… ah, yes I did but…”

Catra turned and frowned, “But?”

“That was… my forest and I was able to draw on a lot of  _ life _ energy,” she gestured around her, “Not really much here.”   


The mercenary huffed and chewed her lip, “Ok, no walking vine monster, I get that but… roots undermine soil? Right?”

“But…”   


“We’ve got cactuses.”

“Cacti.”

“Whatever, we’ve got the spiky bastard plants, anything you can do with that? We need  _ pits _ . Fast. Break up the ground, make it so they can’t get up to speed.”   


Perfuma frowned then bent to touch the ground. Her eyes closed, “Um…  _ oh _ … I may be able to do something. But I need time.”   


“Right, great. Stop you getting run down by metal chariots,  _ great _ ,” Catra made a growl that was almost a yowl, then looked at Entrapta, “Anything good in there?”

“OH! YES! I have… um… well, vials of acid, some, um, sticky stuff, oils… OH! If you can get near them, maybe some phosphorous bombs! That might help!”

Bow sidled up to her, “Ok, I can move and shoot. Skirmishing. Got a few trick shots. But… I won’t know  _ where _ to hit them, not until they’re close by.”   


“Uh, the wheels are a good bet,” scoffed Catra. Bow shook his head.

“Brightmoon chariots reinforce the axles with bronze and treat the wood. If these things are metal, even an arrow with some demon-powder won’t do much. We need a  _ weakness _ .”

“Alright. You keep them harried. ENTRAPTA! Use that bucket of scrap to try to fix the bastards in place. That… heat blast working on it?”   


“Erm, sort of? Maybe one or two shots.”

“Ok, so we need them STILL for you to do that. Got it. Tong…”

“I stop them,” shrugged the lizard, “Rolly death traps. Useless in swamps. But plenty fun.”   


Catra shook her head, “Just… don’t die, ok?”

“Aww. Tiny fluffy cares?” Tong shrugged, “Live, die. Keep meat.”

The sound of Entrapta’s machine trudging off to one side drew Catra’s gaze. The dust cloud was closer and she could make out silhouettes. time was up, “Archer boy, move. Perfuma, keep low, move if you can. How long do you need?”

The dryad looked up, pensive, “It’s… strange. Different. I don’t  _ know _ . A few minutes at least.”

“No plant monsters. Just need… the soil, sand loosened. If we can.”

“I’ll try.”   


“And worst case. Fire some arrows.”

“OH OH! HERE THEY COME!”

Catra turned and unsheathed a blade, intent on keeping on hand free in case of  _ surprises _ . Because if the past few days had taught her anything the universe  _ enjoyed _ surprising her.

What she wouldn’t give for Adora’s metal plated idiot, selfless,  _ ridiculously _ toned self.

_ Not the time _ she purred to her brain as he heterochromatic eyes focused on the shapes.

The three chariots had split apart - one headed straight for them, the other two moving to flank - likely a slicing cross to try to kill as many as possible. She moved away from Perfuma, which meant their little band was now fairly spaced out - the Dryad crouched by a small pile of rubble, partly concealed. Tong Lashur stood like a bronzed god from a lost temple, stoic, immovable.

Bow had an arrow notched and the string partly pulled back. Entrapta…

Where was  _ Entrapta? _

Before Catra could look further, the central chariot was on them. It was  _ massive _ \- ten feet tall - perhaps twenty long. The  _ rider _ was physically part of the chariot itself, a glaive of immense proportions in one hand, the other arm some sort of composite bow with gears and chains. The front ball was a good five feet tall all by itself and spun feverishly fast as it pulled the metal monstrosity along, bearing down straight at Tong Lashur.

Catra caught the machine’s movements in time - because whilst it was charging  _ Tong _ the bow was levelled at  _ her _ .

She managed to roll out of the way, but had to keep rolling - the damn bow fired  _ three times _ in quick succession and she heard the bolts crack into the hard earth with terrifying force - the sort of draw strength a  _ longbow _ would normally push out.

She pushed up quickly and saw Tong dart away from the machine, the glaive barely missing him. Catra didn’t have  _ time _ to watch as she heard a rumble behind her - the second chariot’s rattle as it thundered towards her. She cursed and ran at an angle, partly towards it. She saw it turn, the intent to ride her down, clearly. A flash as a splash of goop across the front wheel made it shudder and slow, just enough for her to dash past and behind it. It gave her a scant moment to wave a  _ thank you _ to Bow, who was now having to dash to dodge the  _ third _ chariot.

She got a clear look at the metal monster - the chariot itself being little more than a cylinder on wheels, with the torso of the golem itself atop it. AS she watched, the torso rotated around completely and levelled its bow at her. She swore and backflipped away, the  _ thunk thunk thunk _ of bolts sending a chill up her spine.

Catra landed on her feet and took off again. She saw Perfuma grit her teeth and twitch, wrestling with  _ something _ clearly. But she refocused her attention back on the bronze terrors intent on their destruction.

The golem seemed to be just armour - riveted plates hammered into a crude humanoid shape. But there  _ were _ gaps in the joints - just leather there, to stop grit and dust getting beneath into potentially fragile mechanisms.

A dagger wouldn’t do, save to cut the material. Poison would be useless.

She needed the archer.

An explosion and spray of dust drew her gaze as she saw Bow roll and fire another arrow. There was a splash of flame against the metal orb of one of the chariots, but it kept coming, unperturbed. Bow shouted a  _ “OH COME ON!” _ and was forced to dive out of the way, barely dodging the spinning blades on the chariot wheels.

Catra twitched as her ears flickered and she ducked. The blade of a glaive swung over her head and she pushed herself forwards, then rolled onto her back. The gooped chariot was  _ reversing _ towards her, the wheel rolling backwards and forcing the machine towards her.

That was new.

She rolled to one side as the glaive came down in an overarm swing. It cracked the soil where she’d been, but she was able to scramble to her feet and took the opportunity to scamper up the glaive’s haft, her preternatural balance serving her well. She leapt as she reached the metal fist and landed atop the things stubby head, then hammered the hilt of her blade at the red gem in its centre.

“Fucking… metal… arseholes…. With…. No…. STABBY BITS!” she cursed again as she saw the thing’s bow arm being raised. She couldn’t help but be impressed as she saw bolts being slid from  _ inside _ the machine’s arm into the crossbow’s grooves, the bow strings reeled back in by some winding mechanism.

Before it could hit her point blank, she vaulted away and sprinted towards another pile of rubble. She glanced to one side and swore as Perfuma shuddered, a bolt in her shoulder. The woman collapsed and Catra veered towards her. She slid to a halt and reached for the fallen dryad…

Who then made a little  _ shooing  _ motion. Catra stared at her, saw that the forest nymph still had one hand pressed flat to the ground. The feline grinned slowly, then stood and sprinted away.

Clever. Play dead. She just hoped the machines couldn’t  _ tell _ .

She knew they collected corpses. So maybe they’d at least wait until they were all dead before…? That wasn’t a comforting thought.

Catra took a split second to survey the battlefield and grimaced. Bow was limping, a wound on his leg, likely from an ill timed dodge. Tong Lashur was  _ climbing _ the back of one of the chariots. The thing was spinning, the ball rolling whilst the main body of the chariot remained at the centre of the spin. But the thing’s torso was also turning, trying to dislodge the stubborn lizard. Another chariot was rolling towards them, fast, bolts firing as it bore down.

Catra saw one hit the lizard, but Tong seemed too occupied with wrenching the glaive from his current target. He  _ snapped _ the metal haft and pushed himself off the machine, only to land awkwardly.

The second chariot shifted direction to skewer him with it’s own glaive. Tong Lashur wavered and Catra cried out.

Then the lizard leapt  _ forwards _ and jammed the glaive  _ hard _ into the side of the chariot, through the wheel spokes. Catra yelled as the axel blades sparked and Tong spun in place, a fine spray of blood fountaining from a wound.

The chariot kept going, but the haft was caught in the spokes and trapped  _ under _ the vehicle. The wheel spun faster, but the machine began to dig a furrow in the sand. It slowed and Catra saw red, “BOW! Gunk arrow!” 

She didn’t wait for an answer but sprinted at the machine. Catra bounded past the spinning ball and landed on the traces. The machine turned its torso, too close for the glaive. She jumped again and jammed her dagger into the working parts of the crossbow, then pulled another knife free. This one she jammed into the leather of the machine’s shoulder joint and sliced it open. She rolled away as the machine tried to slap at her with the glaive’s haft, then swung onto its back, much as Tong had.

She saw the archer, on the other side of the machine - he seemed to understand her intent and brought up one of his trick arrows. He loosed and she ducked behind the machine’s torso. There was a clang, then a squelch and she popped over the machine’s shoulder. She grinned as she saw the quick drying gloop stuck within the machine’s parts. The torso’s movements bagan to stiffen and the bow arm ceased moving completely. The glaive arm locked in a couched position and the torso jerked a few more times. WIth a hiss she retrieved her other blade from the ruined gears of the cross bow and leapt clear.

The chariot wasn’t done, however and it lurched as the sphere rolled it around, in an attempt to flatten her. She scrambled away and the machine lurched towards her. The stuck wheel did mean it was a slow movement - it couldn’t accelerate fast enough. Content the thing was  _ less _ of a threat for the moment, she turned to where Tong had fallen.

He wasn’t there. No, the mad  _ bastard _ was still going! Catra gawped as the reptile bounded, slightly unsteadily, after the chariot with the broken glaive - it seemed to be trying to get distance so it could charge, or shoot at him.

A rumble forced Catra to turn and she squeaked as the third chariot rattled towards her. A bolt slides at the meat of her leg and she stumbled. It was  _ too  _ fast. She heard Bow cry out.

And then another sphere  _ slammed _ into the chariot. The impact  _ broke _ one of the traces and sent the chariot’s own sphere tumbling away.

Or it would have, if it hadn’t rolled to a stop and  _ extended legs _ . Catra swore - what did it take to  _ kill _ these things? At this stage she had half a mind to just let Sparkles be!

But… she wasn’t a  _ bad _ person. And she did need to rescue Scorpia.

“You better be grateful, Sparkles…” grunted Catra as she eyed the now static chariot. The torso was rotating and levelled its bow at Entrapta’s golem. The bolts clanged against the metal and one even pierced, which set the machine to wobbling.

Then a vial of something arced through the air and shattered against the chariot-torso-thing’s head. Smoke rose and the machine began to jerk fitfully. Catra blinked as metal oozed like liquid and melted. The gemstone eye hissed and cracked then fell away from the housing. As molten, dissolved metal dripped into the machine’s interior, it fell still.

Not so the machine’s  _ sphere _ . It scuttled forwards and belched a column of flame at Catra. She hissed and rolled behind Entrapta’s golem. The two spider-balls met and began to swat at each other with spindly legs. It would have been funny if they weren’t so terrifying.

“Catra! Are you Oh-Kay?” Entrapta appeared and peered down at the feline. Her voice was stilted and slow, as if expecting Catra to be some sort of imbecile.

“Doing  _ fine _ . Where were you?”

“Oh, needed to actually, y’know,  _ mix _ the potions and stuff. ALSO Emily had a loose gear, didn’t want her falling apart in the middle of… this, y’know?”

Catra glanced past Entrapta and swore, then yanked the girl back. The supposedly disabled chariot was  _ not _ \- despite the axle jam and Bow’s gunk, it had managed to manoeuvre around and was rolling slowly towards them, glaive held like an executioner’s blade. It couldn’t shoot, but it could  _ hack hack hack _ .

Bow himself was firing but his explosive arrows just splashed heat over the exterior. Gunk arrows gummed it up but not long enough - outside the goop just didn’t set over enough of it to do much. 

The machine jolted forwards and Catra realised the broken glaive had come loose, freeing the machine to charge. Entrapta squealed with delight as Catra pushed her one way and was forced to roll back herself. The machine thundered past, intending to pick up speed. It rolled and spun, then came back. Catra stumbled again, her leg wound making any sharp movements tricky - a muscle had clearly been more damaged than she wanted to admit.

The thing was going to roll by and either skewer her, or….

The other chariot… it was coming from the  _ other _ direction… which meant she was caught - the’d slice her in two as they both passed her.

Catra’s blood ran cold. Tong Lashur was still chasing the broken hafted one - it would just use its wheel spikes. Or run her over. She looked about wildly, panic suddenly in her chest.

_ And I never told her that I…. _

The ground lurched and one of the machines tilted alarming. The machine with the intact glaive half collapsed as the earth cracked beneath it. Green tendrils, thin and weak, spewed out and wrapped around it.

The other chariot veered off course, but was slowed enough that Tong Lashur was able to vault onto it. Again.

He clambered up it and began to hammer the head repeatedly with his bronze blade, the weapon clearly being bent out of shape by the act.

“UM MR LIZARD! TRY THIS!” Entrapta ran up alongside the still moving chariot, her hair making her move like a spider. She tossed a jar up to a bemused Tong who looked at it whilst the machine tried to bat at him with its broken glaive haft, the metal poole bouncing from his purloined plate.

“What? Eat it?”

“NO! Smash it?”

“Where?”

“Um… inside?”

“OH! GOOD! YES!”

Catra couldn’t help but laugh as the lizard  _ tore _ at the leather cover of the joints then, stuffed the jar inside the machine. She couldn’t hear it, but she imagined a  _ crunch _ of pottery from within. Then white smoke began to pour out. The lizard leapt free and the Chariot rolled to a stop. And then, of course, the ball popped free of the traces and unfolded into  _ another _ spider.

“WHY!” screamed Catra. An arrow zipped past her and slammed into the now-revealed red gem of the machine. The arrow then sprouted  _ vines _ and the spider staggered, blinded. Catra snorted and shook her head as Perfuma stepped up alongside her. The woman winced as she pulled the crossbow bolt from her shoulder, then notched another arrow.

“Sorry… bit distracted murmured the dryad, “Seems there’s a few nascent roots systems down there. Took some encouragement but I think… I think that one will be held.”   


“DON’T destroy it!” shrieked Entrapta, pointing at the third, entangled chariot. The ball on that one was still spinning, but didn’t seem able to disengage from the machine, ”We can USE it!”

Catra shook her head, “Kill the golems  _ first _ , crazy plans  _ second _ .”

“This not crazy plan?” grunted Tong as he joined Catra. They watched as Perfuma landed another arrow on the confused, blinded spider-machine. The feline huffed.

“What  _ are _ those arrows?”

“Oh… cuttings. Still alive, basically. I keep them soaked in fluids in my pack. Part of me really. But as they’re alive, I can funnel some ambient energy in and… well, as you can see.”   


“And this wasn’t an option earlier because….” mused Catra. The dryad shrugged. She ignored Tong Lashur’s muttered “ _ dryads”. _

“I wouldn’t have been able to do much beyond… maybe tangle them up? And the vines aren’t strong. We do need to.. Disable it. Someho-”   
  
“I’M ON IT!” screamed the engineer. They all watched as she ran forwards and, with a cry of manic glee, launched herself atop the struggling spider.

“Uh… and… what about them?” Catra inhaled and turned, having completely forgotten  _ Bow _ . He was limping towards them and Perfuma dashed to his side. The archer waved her away and pointed at the duelling spiders. Both seemed covered in burning liquid and scorch marks. Tong Lashur clicked his jaw, then cast about the ground. He nodded, bent and picked up the ruined piece of glaive, then weighed it in his hand.

“Which one belong to crazy-hair?”

Catra shrugged, “Uh… not sure.”

The lizard shrugged, “We kill remaining one if not work,” then he took a short run and threw the blade like a javelin.

The blade smashed into the connection joint of one of the spider-spheres. The machine staggered and the other darted forwards. There was a strange heat haze for a moment, then an arc of purple electricity. The opposing machine toppled slowly and grey smoke billowed from within. The four observers froze as the remaining machine turned to them.

It emitted a series of clicks and hoots. Then turned and scuttled towards Entrapta, where it folded up and waited, whilst she continued to work on the now eerily still  _ other _ spider-ball. Catra sheathed her blades and bit her lip, “I…. guess that one’s ours.”

“Is it me… or did it…  _ hoot _ at us?”

Perfuma nodded slowly, “Um… it isn’t alive? Because I can see it’s not alive. But it acts… alive?”

Catra just shrugged, “I… honestly do not know, nor can I bring myself to  _ care _ . We nearly got butchered by three of these. Curse the Shadow, but imagine if they’d come out here with  _ infantry _ as well.”

Bow shook his head, “Not a good tactical choice. Cavalry unsupported… only works if you have a  _ lot _ of cavalry.”

The feline nodded, “Maybe… maybe this is all he’s got?”

They lapsed into silence until Tong Lashur spoke up, “I thought Engineer a threat to whole  _ civilised _ world?”

Perfuma frowned and tapped her lips, her bow now held loosely in her off hand, “Well… supposedly. I mean he…”

She trailed off and Catra shook her head, “He what?”

“I mean he hasn’t actually  _ done _ anything. Not really. There’s  _ stories _ and obviously no one comes out of here alive, or rarely… but he just… slowly expands. But no one’s bothered sending an army here for a while. If they even sent anything of any merit.”

Bow huffed, “I think we were  _ lucky _ . We had a dryad, A crazy lizard with  _ no pain threshold _ .”   


“Thank you.”   


“NOT a compliment. You got skewered.”   


“Is flesh wound. Will grow back,” Catra studied the slash that had gone  _ through _ metal and winced at the lacerated muscle and skin of the reptile’s belly beneath. Tong shrugged, then fished another piece of dried… flesh… from his satchel and chewed on it, “Pain is lesson, remember.”

“You’re a shit student,” snorted Catra.

“Never said wasn’t,” grinned the reptile toothily. They watched Entrapta for a bit as she finished off the spider. It slumped and she groaned.

“Darn. Burnt out. Did you break it? Why did you BREAK IT!”

Catra cupped her hands around her mouth, “Because it tried to KILL US?”

The Engineer sagged, “I guess. OH There’s another one!”

That drew their attention, as they all regarded the trapped Chariot. The torso moved and tired to angle, but the whole thing was on its side, trapped in a partial sinkhole and covered in myriad tiny vines. The sphere was jammed against the side of the hole, trapped by the chariot’s traces. Entrapta stood alongside the group and huffed. Catra shot her a look, “Alright. Now what?”   


“I need that torso section disabled. And the sphere…. We need to let it out. I think I can rewire the machine so we can  _ use _ the chariot.”   


“Why not… the others?”

“One has a broken trace, the other has damaged internals from the gunk and phosphorus. We could use the undamaged one… in fact we might need to. Two chariots are better than one!!”

Disabling the torso was… tricky. First the crossbow, which Tong Lashur mashed to scrap with a rock. Then the glaive. Then Entrapta had ended up hacking into the machine’s head (literally) and shut it off  _ somehow _ . She wasn’t entirely clear on  _ how _ she did it… but it worked. The sphere seemed to go motionless as the torso went dead, but then began spinning with fury after.

“Fascinating. It appears to recognise when its partner machine is disabled,” muttered Entrapta. She’d gotten her pet, Emily, to hold the other sphere still and managed to prise a segment of plate off.

The others had retreated to set up a temporary camp and to dress their wounds. Bow was worst off, it seemed - a nasty gash on his leg and one on his arm. He was pale, his dark skin greyer in pallor than should have been healthy. Perfuma dressed his wounds and slapped a salve onto the gash to prompt healing. Tong Lashur seemed to fall asleep as soon as he sat down, basking as best he could. He’d stripped off his armour to better enjoy the sun. At a glance, he seemed dead, but the faint rise and fall of his chest betrayed his current status as  _ just about alive _ .

Catra tended her own cuts and scrapes - along with the thin slice on her calf where the bolt had done a number on her. Nothing severed, but her muscle was sliced faintly. She used some of Perfuma’s salve and bound it tight - nothing more to be done.

After an hour Entrapta emerged from the pit and set to work on the other, more intact chariot. The torso she stripped away surprisingly quickly, discarding the scrap without a care, until it actually  _ looked _ like a chariot. Tong Lashur stepped in to help with the heavier work, having roused himself - his wounds still looked unpleasant but he seemed unbothered and just accepted a binding from Perfuma.

The dryad was able to coax the meagre plant growths to release the trapped chariot. It rolled out of the pit, the newly-loyal spider (Emily 3) towed the machine forwards slowly. It looked very mish mash, the chariot bed itself a mess of gears and strange levers that Entrapta had rapidly put in place.

After she’d finished on the second Chariot, the purple-haired girl had walked them through the new controls as her own sphere settled between the traces of the chariot.

“This one is for GO FORWARDS. Pull it back to make it go… um.. BACKWARDS! This one is for stop. Don’t push and pull those two together. Bad things. And THIS one makes it turn. You CAN pull that one and THAT one together. All else fails. Jump.”

And so, that was how the group found themselves  _ riding metal chariots _ towards the Brass Citadel.

It was surreal to move at such speed - faster than a horse. It made Catra’s stomach clench. She rode with Bow, whilst Entrapta took Tong Lashur and Perfuma - an archer for each chariot, just in case.

They sped across the flats of the Frightlands - the meagre scenery whipped past in a blur and the great walls of the citadel loomed ahead.

Walls was generous - pile of  _ scrap _ might have been a better term.

Catra gawped as they closed the distance. Ahead, a great gate loomed in the middle of the haphazard collection of stone and hammered in metal. A set of bipedal humanoid machines flanked it and they whirred to life as the chariots approached. The gates began to open, then shuddered to a halt. Catra’s instincts kicked in and she yelled across at Entrapta, “Can these go any faster?”

“UM! MAYBE? WHY?”   


“I think they realised we aren’t the actual chariots!”

“OH!... AH, well… Just… KEEP GOING!”

Entrapta pushed on the lever and Catra watched her chariot pick up speed. With a worried huff and a squeak from Bow, Catra slammed her level forwards. Ahead she could now see details - ramparts across the ramshackle walls, the bridge over what looked like a small canyon. The gates themselves, made of scrap and what looked like interlocking gears. The vast things had opened most of the way but were now slowly, oh so slowly, closing.

The bipedal machines had formed a blockade and Catra’s initial instinct was to hit the breaks. But she just gripped her teeth and leaned forwards. Beside her she heard Bow suck a breath, “We aren’t going to make iiiit.”   


“Shut up and get that bow ready.”   


They barreled through the measly blockade, golems flying aside like skittles. The chariots skidded across irregular metal as they crossed the bridge and rushed through the gates. They went from the light of day to sudden, dim darkness, which suddenly bloomed to light again as lamps lit all along the walls - they were in a tunnel. Another gate was closing at the other end, and they continued on. More golems, barely even a bump for the two chariots as they smashed forwards.

And suddenly they were out in sunlight again. Catra blinked in surprise at the sudden flash of light.

And  _ colour _ .

She hauled on the brakes, but forgot to release the forward lever too. There was a fizzed and a  _ clunk _ and the sphere guiding them spun faster as the chariot wheels locked; then the traces snapped and the sphere tumbled away to smash into a stone wall. The chariot skidded to a halt and spun, Bow’s voice a high pitched shriek as Catra flailed at levers that didn’t respond. Slowly, the chariot slid to a halt, Bow’s cry tapering off only as it shuddered to a halt.

A whirr announced Entrapta’s chariot as she brought it to a halt nearby, “I told you. No pulling the level whilst pushing the other one!”

“Yeah…. Yeah. Message received,” whimpered Catra as she managed to unclench her fists and tottered off the back of the chariot. As the blood in her brain returned to normal around the rest of her body, she took in their surroundings.

And had to do a double take.

The others were also staring.

The tunnel had opened up into a decent sized plaza. There were  _ streets _ leading off in cardinal directions. There were buildings, in a mix of Scorpion style and a more  _ mechanical _ bent. Colourful clothes and awnings decorated the buildings. Flags and  _ kites _ fluttered high above.

And around them, shocked eyes watched them. 

People.

Not golems. Not magical monsters.

_ People. _

_ There were people living in the Frightlands? _

A crowd,  _ market stalls _ , wagons. The crowd was a mix of scorpions, humans, fae,  _ lizards _ . Dressed in rugged, dyed clothes, a rainbow of colours. Smells assailed her nose - food, perfumes, oil. Golems moved among the crowd, the people unbothered by their presence. Catra shook her head slowly.

“What. The. Hell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One fight scene and STRANGE TWIST.
> 
> Wonder if Glimmer's ok!
> 
> As ever, FEED ME comments - Love to hear your thoughts. let me know if this worked, if it made sense. I know it's a little bit of a tonal shift (Now we have MECHANICAL things). But we'll be back to brutal, vicious nastiness soon ;) 
> 
> And do feel free to speculate what the Great Engineer is up to.


	21. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group navigate a strange city.
> 
> Are they expected?
> 
> And by whom?

Bow and Catra exchanged a glance. Entrapta was enthralled. Perfuma had her mouth open. And Tong Lashur was kicking one of the broken Chariots.

“We stuck, then?”

Catra was staring at the milling crowd. She could make out whispers:  _ Refugees? Traders _ and  _ Isn’t that… Weaver gear? _ And  _ Are they here to kill us _ . It was surreal. No one was running. No one was shouting. They were being regarded with idle curiosity.

By people living in a town in the  _ middle of the Frightlands _ . A place so barren that nothing survived.

Bow had an arrow ready, but looked lost, “Who… who do I aim at? I mean… this is a  _ town _ .”   


“Full points for observation Arrow boy. Thoughts, anyone? Nice as this is, I think we need to  _ move _ .”   


Entrapta clapped her hands and pointed, “The tower is THAT WAY! It seems the most  _ logical _ place for a Princess to be taken!”

Catra looked at her small band and nodded, “Let’s go then. Before uh… you know what, not gonna tempt the fates.”   


They moved towards the crowd, which parted before them. Catra saw the curious stares, the mildly concerned frowns. She did notice that a few of the golems had frozen and were making loud clicking noises. That was mildly unsettling. They headed at speed towards the edge of the plaza, to a promising street that seemed to head towards the central tower - that spire, visible from miles around.

A clunk behind them made Catra pause and turn and she hissed. The golems had started moving again. They had formed a line blocking their escape, but seemed to be content to act as a barrier. Bow glanced back and groaned, “Guess we’re committed.”

“Yeah…” Catra nodded, then turned back to forge ahead.

They moved fast. Five bodies and a rolling orb. They dashed past alleyways filled with stacked crates and past buildings made of scrap metal and salvaged stonework. The roads were paved, worn by the passage of feet. Townsfolk milled in doorways and watched them pass with idle curiosity. But there was a sudden, distinct absence of golems. They moved through the streets, having to deviate down side routes and alleyways as blockades and carts cut off a direct route. They moved from the wider main road, down side routes and alleyways. But there was no sound of pursuit.

No one seemed alarmed; no one was shouting for the guard.

It made Catra feel unnerved.

They came to a narrow intersection but found the side routes blocked by stacked boxes. Perfuma frowned, “That’s… odd. Maybe…”

Bow looked up at the buildings - they were low, scrappy affairs. Not regular, akin to the squat constructs of the Scorpion towns; square, roof terraced things, with awnings and roof-trellis constructs. But here they used metal and stone rather than timbers. The Archer mused, “We could climb… I get the feeling we’re gonna find route deviation  _ difficult _ .”

Perfuma looked at him and cocked her head, “You think we’re being herded?”

“Alleys blocked off, junctions blocked, golems behind us? No resistance at all? Yeah, definitely.”   


Catra nodded shortly, “Then we press on. Don’t think we want to know what happens if we  _ climb up _ .”

“It could be an ambush,” Perfuma bit her lip and adjusted her quiver. Tong Lashur nodded slowly next to her.

“Best way to deal with a trap. Set it off.”

Catra shook her head, “I think you mean disarm. Not all of us can grow back missing limbs.”

The reptile shrugged lazily, “Then learn.”

Entrapta perked up, “Can we do that?”   


“Entrapta,  _ focus _ . Any input on any of this?”

“Just that… this city shouldn’t exist. The aquifers, the food requirements, the  _ weather _ … this place shouldn’t be able to sustain itself! Barely have a viable population, let alone one with as diverse dietary requirements as…”

Catra waved a hand, “I was thinking more about the golems?”

“Oh. Well, there is a lower density of constructs than I was expecting. I assumed that the Brass Citadel would be… a workshop. Not a settlement. Some grand mechanical construct.”

The group spread out around the intersection, with Perfuma looking to their rear and Tong Lashur eyeing the road ahead. The street was narrow, not quite the wide, cart strewn expanse of Scorpion Hill. Maybe fifteen feet across, if that. Bow chewed his lip as he looked about, “It’s… something. And yeah, Entrapta has a point - where  _ are _ the golems? Even if they’re forcing us along. They were pretty aggressive  _ outside _ .”

Catra heaved a tired sigh, “So we can establish they’re herding us  _ but _ they haven’t ambushed us here… in a populated area. Makes me think they don’t want us wrecking the place.”

Tong Lashur turned and nodded, “Maybe we break things? Make them come to us?”

Catra shook her head, “In a city of unknown size, against an  _ army _ of unknown size, staying in one place? If we were outside, yeah, I’d be up for that. Here? No… let’s push on, get to the Citadel and… keep an eye out. ‘Fuma, you got any plant sense going on there?”

“Umm… I can sense  _ something _ but it’s distant, and feels strange.”   


“Ok. Entrapta? Your Emily... Thing?”

The rolling machine rumbled and extended its limbs, then scuttled to stand next to Entrapta. She peered at it, then back at Catra, “What about her?”

“Can we… trust it? Her? Those other golems found us in the desert pretty fast. And the ones here are… setting a trap? We sure she’s safe?”

Entrapta puffed up, “I know what I’m doing. Mostly. But yes! Safe as anything that falls within the bounds of reasonably safe. And a margin of error.”

“Not filling me with confidence here, ‘Trapta.”

The engineer smiled self consciously, “Well, yes. I mean, yes Catra, she’s  _ safe _ .”

It made Catra bite her lip. She took another look around. Staying still wasn’t an option. GOing back meant more golems and then? What? Leave the city? They’d made it inside for a reason, so leaving would be absolutely pointless. And completely  _ not _ an option.

So, forge ahead and face the ambush. She nodded with determination, “Alright, eyes up. These assholes are going to try something. ‘Fuma, Bow, behind me and Tong, need to keep you at range. Entrapta, we’ll need you to provide distractions when they  _ do _ attack. Tong…. You and me, we’re in the thick of it.”   


The reptile nodded but said nothing. The group exchanged glances then moved along the street. Ahead was another stack of crates, clearly haphazardly placed in their way. The only other option was another side street which curved around. Cautiously, with Catra in the lead, they advanced.

The side street opened out and Catra paused, her breath momentarily stolen.

Before her was the Brass Citadel itself.

It was  _ massive _ . Higher than any spire she’d ever climbed; larger than the ice palace of the Frostan War-Kings, even.

Her gaze took in the construct and then the surroundings. The spire rose from a crater, the sides of which appeared unnaturally smooth. A road lined the lip of the crater, flanked by more buildings - houses, warehouses, Catra wasn’t sure. There was no uniformity, just the mish mash of sizes and styles she was coming to associate with this bizarre town.

They now stood on the road that ringed the crater and Catra took in the tower itself - a vast, grey-green thing. It sported jutting turrets and myriad arches and balconies, along with that same patchwork style of metal grafted over the strange, greenish stonework. If it even was  _ stone _ \- it looked wet, glistening in the weak sun that forced its way through the circling clouds above the spire.

Cables ran from the tower down into the city, and tamed lightning crackled over parts of the building.

It felt  _ wrong _ to Catra. Or maybe it was just the sheer size of the thing. How it hadn’t toppled over under its own mismatched weight, Catra didn’t know.

Tong Lashur stared up at it and rumbled, “Is mage tower?”

Catra shook her head, “I mean… it’s weird. And looks… yeah it  _ looks _ weird. But it’s not making my eyes want to bleed and my stomach want to eat itself. So… no magic. Perfuma, you’re… magic, right?”

The dryad nodded, her eyes glued to the tower. Her mouth was set in a firm line, “This thing is  _ wrong _ .”

“Uuhhh. So it  _ is _ magic?” queried Catra. The dryad shook her head.

“It’s just… there’s no real  _ life _ to it. It just feels… like a city but  _ worse _ .”

“Ok, not even gonna pretend to understand,” grumbled Catra. She startled as a rumble rattled the base of the tower. The group watched as the building, the  _ tower _ , began to rotate.

Or rather the part of the tower that was level with them rotated. The rest of it remained stock still.

The slow turn revealed an arched door, blocked by large metal gates. As soon as the tower segment had finished its rotation steam hissed from the base of the gate and a bridge began to extend in slow, jerking movements. Catra flinched as more noise assailed her ears and she looked to her side.

She froze.

Around the crater, emerging from alleys and streets, stomped more of the humanoid golems, shoulder-pipes belching black smoke and steam, gears clunking as they moved with that awful, marionette gait.

The group drew together, but the golems halted just in front of the street entrances and remained still, focused on the tower.

The group’s attention refocused on the vast building before them as the bridge  _ thunked _ against the edge of the crater. The gates at the tower’s base hissed open and a figure emerged, flanked by a pair of  _ much _ larger golems. These till walked with that unnerving, jerking movement. But they were bulkier and sported what looked like  _ scythes _ in place of arms.

“This engineer really sticks with his whole… slicing look, doesn’t he,” murmured Bow. Catra hummed an agreement, then squinted at the figure between the two machine. Her breath caught and her hands flew to her blades.

The figure spread its arms and  _ smiled _ .

Which shouldn’t have been possible. Because she’d only ever seen a face like  _ that _ on the mask of…

“Brothers! WELCOME! 

Tong Lashur opened his mouth and then closed it, then looked at Catra. She shook her head and stared, her hands still gripping the hilts of her blades, “Wh...who are you?” she managed as the figure drew closer.

It was clad in similar garb to the townsfolk they’d seen - grey pants, coupled with a functional tunic. This tunic was white with green patterns across it. 

“Uhhhh…. Catra,” Bow’s voice was a squeak, “Isn’t that a…”

The figure smiled  _ again _ and bowed, “Kadroh, Castellan of this humble refuge! We are so glad you are now here. Please, come.”

Catra worked her throat and her gaze travelled up and down the being that looked, bar a few uniform inconsistencies,  _ exactly _ like a brother. Yes, the face was actually mobile and not a  _ mask _ . But it was uncanny - the chalk-white skin, the green eyes, the strange set of the nose. It was  _ just _ like looking at a Brother. The tunic had a similar pattern, but more colourful with the intricate weaves. But on Kadroh it looked far less sterile. Catra swallowed and managed to get out, “Y...you’re a Weaver?”

The being paused and frowned, then gave her a quick once over. He pursed his lips and  _ tsked _ , “No. None of that. Ohhhh but I see. You  _ are _ a Weaver. Oh dear.”

The larger machines stepped forwards and Catra assessed her options. She held up her hands and shook her head rapidly, “No… NO! I left. I  _ LEFT!” _

The others nodded quickly. Kadroh held up a hand then smiled again, “Oh that  _ is _ wonderful. You have not seen the light that casts the shadow, nor been embraced by the truth that is despair. Wonderful. Brother will be  _ most _ please,” a frown ghosted over his face, “At least I think he will. NO MATTER! Please, come. You must be tired. And hungry!”

The group exchanged glances, but Tong Lashur spoke before any of them could, “This… is ambush?”

Kadroh, who had turned to cross the bridge once more, turned and cocked his head, “Oh no. This is  _ dinner _ . Please, follow me.”

The group fell into step behind him, the pair of overly large golems behind their company. Entrapta, sat atop Emily, stared openly at the machines, her jaw practically unhinged as she emitted a faint hum of excitement.

The bridge began to move as they crossed, retracting back into the building with a series of loud clanks and thuds, which made the crossing quicker. Beyond the gates, Kadroh beckoned them all onto a circular platform at the end of a wide corridor. Catra turned and watched as the pair of golems trundled into a pair of alcoves beside the door, then slumped into what looked like resting positions.

The floor beneath the group shuddered and began to rise. Entrapta clapped her hands happily and looked at Kadroh, “AMAZING! This is like the counterweight lifts in Dryll! What powers it? Do you use pulleys? How fast can it go?”

Kadroh beamed at her, “We use a water pump system as well as pressure valves, along with some redundant systems! I cannot pretend to understand its intricacy but it does make ascending much easier, no?”

Entrapta nodded, then cocked her head, “So you aren’t the Engineer?”

Kadroh cocked his head, “The who?”

“The Great Engineer?” prompted Bow, “Lord of the Frightlands, Master of Metallurgy? The Leader of the Mechanical Hordes?”

The look the archer got back from the Castellan was one of polite incomprehension. Catra sighed, “The guy in charge around here?”

“Oh well… I suppose that’s me.”

The group stared at him, “You’re in charge of this place?”

“Well, not the tower! Brother would not like that. No. But I do my best to ensure the people are safe, secure and provided for.”

Catra felt at a loss for words. She frowned and her ears flicked with faint irritation, “So you, the leader of this settlement, just got onto a moving platform with five well equipped people and a machine and left your body guards down below?”

Kadroh frowned, “Yes.”   


“And… you aren’t  _ worried _ we might try something?”

“Why would I be?”

Catra stared at him, her mouth open, one eye squinting with faint incredulity. Perfuma stepped forwards, “Well, we did just… ride into your city?”

“Oh yes! Most impressive. That was why we wished to speak with you! To ascertain your intent! We don’t get many visitors.”

Tong Lashur rumbled, “Where do people come from? In town?”

“Oh, that’s simple. Descendants from the original inhabitants following the  _ arrival,” _ the group just stared at him and Kadroh shifted, “Oh and of course stranded stragglers, caravans that we impound, raiding parties we pacify. Well, survivors. Bit of a nasty business that, but they come round.”

Bow’s voice cracked when he finally managed to speak, “You… force them here?”

“Well, we can’t have people wandering off now? They might die in the wastes! No, better they come here. We take in those who are lost and far from home.”

Perfuma crossed her arms and glared at Kadroh. She seemed a bit antsier than normal; the tower bearing down on her, Catra pondered - it had unsettled the dryad the most. And right now, she looked a bit  _ wilted _ . Her hair was not as golden, her skin a bit greyer. The dryad’s voice had an edge to it when she spoke, “Or kidnap, you mean.”

The Castellan smiled and gave her a quizzical look, “I am afraid I do not understand?”

“The Princess you sent your machines to capture!” the dryad growled. Actually  _ growled _ . Catra stepped towards her, suddenly nervous. Kadroh didn’t seem phased, however.

“Princess? I am afraid I do not understand,” he seemed genuinely confused. Catra stared at him. It seemed incongruous - this being that was setting off all her internal warning signs just because he looked horrifyingly like a Brother, but who radiated an innocent enthusiasm and amenable, matter of fact attitude.

“Well, we didn’t imagine those gigantic robots smashing through the woods to take our friend, pretty sure of that,” managed the cat-girl. Kadroh nodded slowly, then winked at her.

“AH! Yes! Are you referring to the loud pink fae?”

“That’s her,” Catra’s voice was cautious, “You’ve seen her? So you DID take her.”

“Oh no. As I said, I handle the town, the collection of building material and the various miscelania of management. Ah, here we are.”

The platform clunked to a halt at another floor, which was…. More metal flooring and green, drab walls. Kadroh strode ahead, arms clasped behind his back. The group, flustered, hurried after him, Bow jogging to keep pace, “Wh...where is she then? And why did you take her?”   


“I didn’t take her. I don’t pretend to understand the requirement. My role is to welcome new arrivals and manage their transition into being part of the town. Like yourselves! Normally we would do this in the plaza at the front of the city but, well, you seemed so eager!”

Catra held up both hands, “Wait. WAIT a minute. You… or  _ someone _ sent your golems to  _ kill _ us in the desert.”

“Of course. You are a collective of armed unknowns who were approaching the city!” Kadroh smiled.

“But…. we got past them and got in?” Catra felt very confused, “Why didn’t you just… try to kill us again?”

Kadroh shrugged, “My Brother decided it best to welcome you to ascertain your intent. Had you been unarmed, we may have approached the situation differently! But, blessed be, you are now here and you are  _ welcome _ . Now, please, this way. We have rooms here for you to freshen up, then I am to take you to see my Brother.”   


“And Glimmer,” said Bow. Kadroh looked confused, “The…. loud pink fae?”

“Ah, well, again, you must discuss that with my Brother. And then, of course, we will meet again to discuss housing arrangements and role assignments! Exciting!”

The Castellan pushed open a door to reveal a sparsely decorated room. The Catra paused, “We’re not here to join your settlement. We’re… here to rescue our  _ friend _ .”

Kadroh blinked at them and actually looked  _ sad _ , “You… are not here to stay?”

“No!” Catra flung up her arms, “And… I really don’t know why we aren’t  _ fighting _ our way through here right now!”

“Do you… want to?” Kadroh seemed perplexed, “I can summon several golems if… it would help?”

Entrapta looked about to speak, but Tong Lashur reached up and clamped a scaly hand over her mouth. Perfuma shook her head rapidly and Bow sidled up to Catra, “No, no that’s… fine. We can, um…?” he gestured at the room beyond the door. Kadroh smiled and nodded.

“Please. We have showers, utilising a water pumping system, as well as suitable clothing for all new arrivals. Of course, once you are settled, you are free to purchase, create or otherwise locate new attire to suit your comfort needs and professional capacities! I will return to summon you for dinner shortly. This is  _ most  _ exciting!”

The group sidled into the room and watched as Kadroh closed the door. They waited until his footsteps retreated then Catra spun to stare at the others, “I’m not the only one here currently feeling  _ really _ confused, right?”

Perfuma hugged herself for a moment, “This is…. Not a great place. Too much metal…”

“Is very odd. Also, white faced man looked like Weaver Brother but was not trying to stab you?”

“That is the least of it… but yeah, seems like Glimmer’s alive and  _ here _ . But… what’s going on? They, what, capture people and turn them into happy little citizens?”

Bow paced the room and inspected their temporary accommodation. The room had several benches in the middle, whilst the walls had several cubicles along them. Pipes and cables threaded into the room across the ceiling, then descended in a haphazard way across the walls. Everything was painted in a muted, olive green colour, with evidence of patchwork repairs across all the surfaces. Another door led to what looked like… latrines? But indoors. Bow spoke as he explored.

“Sounds like… they round up people in the desert? Bandits? But the people we saw… they seemed pretty relaxed? And, well… there was a  _ market _ . HOMES! These people don’t look like slaves. I mean… maybe this place is a refuge?”

Entrapta was also exploring, giggling as she traced patterns of wires on the walls, “Fascinating… there’s some sort of…. Electrical charge inside these. AMAZING! And… steam pipes? Pressurised? HOW? This, wow, this is…. WOW!”

Catra massaged her temples, “Alright, well, crazy city in the desert aside, we have an objective. We need to find Glimmer. Suggestions?”

Tong Lashur rumbled, “Force the not-Weaver thing to tell us?”

“He didn’t seem that aware,” mused Perfuma, “Not quite as in charge? Some sort of petty bureaucrat? Maybe we should… explore?”

Catra shook her head, “You saw how big this place was from the outside. And who knows what kind of traps we’re up against. If we had time, I’d be all for that. But… we don’t have supplies, we haven’t got any clues as to layout or whatever,” she dragged her hands down her face and her tail lashed with frustration, “I think we may have to meet this… other Brother. Force  _ him _ to give up Glimmer.”

They exchanged looks and Bow gave up his exploration of the room with a sigh, “So, what, play along?”

Catra nodded, “I don’t fancy fighting though the tower on some sort of… fruitless search. Especially if there’s more things like that moving floor or those big statue-golem things. We’re on their soil… let’s bide our time.”

Perfuma nodded, then looked at one of the cubicles. She sniffed and frowned, “Water… did that man say… showers? What’s a shower? Like… rain?”

Entrapta scuttled to one of the cubicles and prodded at the valves. She shrieked as a spray of water soaked her and fumbled for the controls. Catra hissed and jumped back, but Tong Lashur hauled the diminutive woman away. Bow squeaked and jumped forwards, inspecting the engineer for injury, but she just laughed, “WOW! Pumped, pressurised  _ water _ ! In a TOWER! HOW?!”   


Catra’s tail, which had floofed up, began to relax. She exhaled, “Entrapta, you literally build tiny golems that can walk and operate by themselves. How is  _ this _ amazing to you?”

“It’s the SCALE! I can… get machinery to do things on a small, local scale but THIS… It’s like the city - how does it  _ work _ ? They must have an underground reservoir, some sort of greenhouse system, maybe… water wheels? Bellows? How…. hmmmm,” she plucked a piece of paper from one of her myriad pockets and began scrawling ideas. Catra sighed and sat on the central bench. She suddenly felt very tired - fighting three massive machines, riding into an unknown fortress and then having a hell of a shock in the form of a  _ Brother _ after one had nearly gutted her?

She had questions, so MANY questions. Most of them felt superfluous, unnecessary. What was important was finding Glimmer, then getting  _ out _ .

And it sounded like finding Glimmer might be the easy bit, now. Seeing as how no one knew about this place… it didn’t seem likely that they let anyone  _ out _ . But it seemed they were being left alone. And that gave them time.

She heard one of the showers start up and looked over to see Perfuma standing in one of the cubicles. The Dryad sighed happily, and colour seemed to return to her. Catra snorted - the plant woman hadn’t even “undressed”. But considering her clothing was probably just her body… well… less thought about the better.

Catra sank back and sighed. She wondered whether Adora was actually coming. And what she would do, if faced by a similar threat. The thought nagged at her - something else to challenge this  _ Engineer _ about, when they met him. IF they met him.

She dozed, her body demanding respite, if only for a moment. She heard Tong Lashur hiss contentedly beneath a spray of water and the clang of metal as Entrapta dismantled another one. She couldn’t help but smirk at that. Part of her mind raged that they weren’t being more proactive.

But the sensible part of her knew that that was a fools errand. She hadn’t survived as a weaver, then as a Mercenary, without knowing how to be patient. To work the situation to your advantage. If she was by herself, then yes she would be searching, climbing and being a downright  _ nuisance _ .

But as a group, they stood a better chance together in unknown territory. Content, to a point, she drifted into a restless sleep.

Her dreams came faint as she dozed. The feeling of  _ chains _ and  _ purpose. _ Faces hidden behind white, expressionless masks; robes of white and a single voice. The spike of pain in her temple as she tried to fight it. The slow march towards a dark silhouette on the horizon. The sound of marching boots on cracked soil.

She came awake with a start and looked around. Bow was likewise dozing on another bench. Perfuma sat cross legged and serene, whilst Tong Lashur sat next to Entrapta as she spread out a dismantled  _ something _ in front of them. The reptile appeared fascinated and pointed at bits of metal in front of him with child-like glee.

Catra heaved a breath and tried to shake the dreams. With a groan she rolled her legs off the bench and stood, then glanced at Perfuma, “How… long have we been here?”

“Only an hour,” she answered easily, “You think they want us to do something?”

Catra padded to the door, which swung open. She peered into the empty corridor, then pulled her head back inside, “I mean… we could just  _ go _ ? But go where. Like Isaid, don’t fancy exploring the tower.”   


She closed the door and sat back down at the bench with a huff. Her ears flickered and she heard the faint sounds of approaching footsteps. The door clicked open and Kadroh stepped back in, “Brothers! Follow me please! Dinner will be served shortly.”

Warily, the group trekked after the strange Castellan, back to the elevating floor, which took them further up the tower. Kadroh whitered as they ascended, extolling the virtues of remaining as part of the settlement; the freedom it offered.

“We allow any and all to pursue their dreams. Free of tyranny. Free of  _ masters _ . We provide all; food, shelter, maintenance, all you could dream of! You wish to become a cook? Learn! You wish to build? We can make it so! You wish to write beautiful sonnets… of which I am very partial, I must say! Well, we have several well stocked libraries!”

Catra stared at him as he espoused the virtues of living in the city. It all went over her head a bit. It sounded… strange. It was a weird mirror to her experience in the Weavers - everyone raised with a purpose in mind, something chosen  _ for _ you. But here, without the pressures of the world, it seemed far too  _ easy _ . Before she could push that, the platform rattled to a halt. Kadroh led them off through corridors that seemed a little better cared for, though not by much.

The room he led them to was…. Incredibly unremarkable. It was a circular space, no furnishings, but with a high vaulted ceiling. Kadroh stood to one side as they filed in. The group looked at each other, perplexed.

There was a flicker and the flash of electricity, followed by a strobe of light before a massive translucent face appeared in mid air above them. Catra sucked another breath - it was like Kadroh’s face, but devoid of humour, more like the mask of a proper Brother. But this one had red eyes.

_ “Why have you come? Why have you violated the sanctity of our refuge?” _

The group spread out, eyes checking the shadows. Entrapta, however, stared up at the head, eyes wide with glee. The voice that boomed out all around was harsh, clipped and verged on a snarl. Catra heaved a breath and stepped forwards.

“We are here to reclaim Glimmer of Brightmoon, Princess Heir and….”

“ _ And if I told you she were dead?” _

Bow choked and he had an arrow drawn and levelled at the disembodied head. He vibrated with rage and near-grief. Catra twitched her tail and glared up at the face. The glare it returned did not waver. She snarled out, “Then we would have to exact revenge.”

“ _ Why? The reason for your coming here would be moot.” _

Catra blinked, “Moot? She… you’ve  _ murdered _ our friend and expect us to be  _ ok _ with that?”

“ _ Your mission would be over. You would be able to remain in a safe, secure environment. Free of the troubles of the wider world. Free of pain, of stress, of the demands of a cruel world. Free to pursue your passions unencumbered by broad obligation.” _

Catra reared back, “W...why would we want that after you’ve  _ killed _ our friend? Why would we want to stay?” she felt wrong footed. To be honest, so did the floating, translucent  _ head _ . It flickered for a moment, as if distorted.

_ “Why would you risk this for something so dangerous as a magic user?” _

“She’s… she’s our FRIEND!” shouted Bow, “What have you done with her?”

“ _ You are not in a position to make demands, boy.” _

Entrapta didn’t appear to be listening. She’d wandered over to the wall and was poking at something there. She made an excited noise and began to root around with the wall panel. The head turned and glared down at her. Catra shouted back up at it, “Why’d you take her?”

_ “My designs are none of your concern…. Weaver. And you should be well aware, regardless.” _

“I haven’t got a clue, so how about you stop posturing and talk.”

_ “You invade my home and demand answers?” _

“You take our friend and demand respect?”

_ “How… what is she doing? Leave that alone!” _

There was a click and the floating head flickered out. Then it flashed back, clearer and more sharply defined. Entrapta sat back on her heels and dusted her hands, “There we go! Misaligned crystal housing, making for an inefficient beam and thus image disruption was INEVITABLE. Really, very basic, I’m surprised it wasn’t fixed before now,” she looked around, “This is a rather underwhelming room.”   


The head stared at her, then looked at the others with a frown, “ _ You best my latest prototypes. Pursue a comrade across the desert. Defeat yet more of my designs. All for… a tool? A vessel of power? Why do you wish her returned to you?” _

Catra growled, “Because she is… important to us. And… we need her.”   


_ “For what?” _

“That is none of your concern!”

_ “It very much is. I cannot allow the potential of her power to be used for… nefarious ends.” _

Catra stared, but it was Bow who spoke, “What… nefarious ends?”

_ “You travel in the company of a Weaver,” _ and the way the voice  _ spoke _ , the word sounded like a slur, “ _ You should be familiar with their depravity, their ultimate goal to turn all to the Light of Primus. To continue the eternal battle.” _

That got a few confused looks, most directed at Catra. She shrugged, “You’ve kind of… confused me there. All I know is that the Weavers kill people for money. And do weird things when they want you to… ascend. But I  _ left _ . I told your… brother the same thing. I’ve not been a Weaver for a long time and I never  _ chose _ to be one.”   


The face regarded her with a strangely calculating look, “ _ Which of us ever chose such a path…. And yet, you would rebuke my offer of a place where your path could be your own?” _

“If you killed Sparkles, yeah. I was just starting to like her….” Catra’s hands rested on the pommels of her blades. “ANd if you’re looking to stop  _ nefarious _ deeds… well the Weavers got another Princess already.”

The head blinked in shock, then growled, “ _ That cannot BE! I know that the Brightmoon Princess was in the woods. I ensured my golems were able to track her. This… this cannot be.” _

Entrapta hummed as she explored the rooms perimeter, “Incorrect data to make an assumption as you did not factor in an unknown variable; that of a member of an unknown royal affiliation. That’s just poor assumptions. The nature of discovery is to assume you know nothing and build from there.”

The head blinked, then looked to Entrapta and frowned.

“ _ And one from Dryll. You are far from your gnomish companions. Yet you exhibit none of their avarice.” _

Entrapta was too engrossed with part of the wall again, but she froze and turned to look at the face, “Um… yes?”

_ “And you easily co-opted my machinery. Such capability from one so limited.... Or perhaps not so backwards or barbaric as I surmised,”  _ the face set into a thoughtful expression, “ _ Kadroh. Bring them to my laboratory. I believe it is past time to have frank discourse. Things are not as I surmised _ .”

“Of course Brother! Please, follow me.”

Catra was bewildered as the face above them  _ vanished. _ Kadroh led them back to the hall, but then down a different path and up a gently sloping stairway. After a few minutes, he pushed open another door and led them into a room that assaulted the senses with how  _ much _ was within.

Tubes of liquids, vials, arcing bolts of electricity; huge gears that rattled against the walls and benches covered in half finished machinery. The room stretched over several floors, with haphazard stairs and ladders between tiers. Shelves filled with scrolls and books lined balconies and pathways. Catra had a brief reminder of her experience with that mage’s infernal tower, except this place didn’t have that same sense of  _ wrong _ about it.

A figure stood in the middle of the room, in front of a large glass cylinder He wore a sleeveless dark blue robe and what looked like a silver tabard over the top of it. Catra stared at the man, another Brother-eque being, and tried to marshal her thoughts.

The figure turned, then stepped aside and Bow gasped.

Glimmer stood inside the cylinder. Her arms were crossed and she looked absolutely  _ furious _ . The tall, gaunt figure of their host seemed to be unperturbed. He stared impassively at the group and flexed his fingers.

“I am Hordak. I believe we have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit "fillery-y" but I wanted to at least introduce a new major player! And his loyal BROTHER!
> 
> We're starting to see... some connections forming in the history of the world here.
> 
> And don't worry, someone else will be back VERY soon. And we will get things back on track ;)
> 
> As ever, please let me know your thoughts, feedback and whether this chapter worked for you. I've wrestled with it, because it's a transitory one - it's meant to get you between some of the more exciting bits, advance the plot a wee bit more... but it took a LOT to write. The next chapter should be a bit more actiony and have some more DRAMATIC progress.
> 
> Though you might find this PLENTY dramatic...


	22. A meeting of Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak elaborates on his plans.
> 
> The nature of things is revealed.
> 
> More guests arrive.

Catra shifted and glanced at her companions. They eyed the gaunt figure warily. Bow in particular seemed to be torn, as his gaze flicked between Hordak and the bottled form of Glimmer. The feline’s rapid assessment told ehr that the princess wasn’t in  _ immediate _ or obvious danger, so that meant they had to at least play by the strange being’s rules.

That could change, of course. But in the first instance, she had to make sure they knew what they were dealing with. And that meant ensuring none of her companions did anything rash.

“OHHH! IS THIS A STATIC GENERATOR?”

...like that. Catra stared at the ceiling and swore to the Shadow itself she would skin Entrapta alive.

The diminutive mechanic looked like a child with a new toy, her eyes wide as she scuttled around the room’s periphery. She was currently fawning over some sort of winch mechanic with cloth and wires arranged about it. Hordak seemed perplexed by the question, flanked by it. He seemed to rally.

“It… it is indeed and…”

“OOOH! A crossbow repeater! Catra! Look! One, wait.. THREE of these were shooting at us an hour ago! AMAZING! Oh! Look! A steam-engine.”

And she was off, her tendril like hair carrying her around the room. Hordak spun in place trying to track her, clearly bewildered. Catra saw him clench a fist and she slid her hand to the pommel of her blade.

“Desist! I will not have my sanctum mocked while a  _ Weaver _ plots my demise.”

Catra paused and Entrapta froze to look at him. She cocked her head with a confused frown “She’s not a Weaver.”

Hordak glanced at Catra and glared at her, “No. But her movements towards her blade indicate she  _ thinks _ like one. And if the Weavers had sent her I would be sorely insulted. Do I not even merit a  _ Brother _ ? One of those shadowy attempts to ape the true power.”

It was interesting, watching Hordak almost preen at the words - that flicker of pride that shifted to anger. Anger barely held in check. Perfuma stepped next to Catra and tilted her head, “You don’t fear the Weavers?”

“In their current guise? Whilst I hold the key to their goals? Hardly. They are an echo, a poor attempt at mimickry of a greater whole. A much more  _ dangerous _ whole. To you and yours they are death incarnate. To me they are a distant nuisance.”

“Key…” Catra frowned, then gestured at the room, “One of your contraptions?”

Hordak chuckled, a disturbing sound that came off as stilted. He raked an amused glance across the group then paused. His smirk shifted to a frown, “You seem… puzzled.”   


Entrapta moved to rejoin the group and then pointed at Glimmer, “Is it the tube? It looks like some sort of siphoning device, or sealed circle? Is that the key?”

The gaunt figure folded his arms and regarded them, “You wander across the Fright Lands, stumbling and determined… yet you truly know not what you are involved in? You, a Weaver, so blind to the machinations of the Order?”

“Ok, you’re being cryptic and, frankly, it’s really annoying,” growled Catra, “We’re here for  _ her _ . We want to know why you nabbed her.”

Hordak snorted then clasped his hands behind his back. His smile was condescending as he leaned forwards ever so slightly, his voice stilted and slow, as if talking to a child, “Because  _ she _ is the key. The last key. The final conduit as yet untethered, but with potential. I must deny the Order that conduit, prevent it from falling into their hands so that they cannot complete their final, terrible work,” Hordak’s amused expression shifted to a frown, “The Weavers certainly have changed, not inducting the Initiates so. Even the lowest of the Order were aware of the Grand vision… but the Order is now a shadow of the Shadow, so perhaps…” he trailed off and stalked to a work bench.

Catra ground her teeth, still uncertain, “Ok, that… that kind of runs with what the old lady said. And… wait, untethered? What do you mean  _ untethered _ ?”

“To the runestones. The centres of magical power within the world, of course,” hissed the engineer, “Whilst this… being is enclosed, I can maintain her security and ensure the passage of the runestone’s power cannot be diverted. With the death of her family, her power will not be intercepted and thus, I can prevent the same calamity that struck the world upon… my arrival.”

Entrapta gasped, “The dragonfall?”

Hordak chuckled humourlessly, “The very same. A war that lasted all of thirty minutes.”

“Woooooaaaaah. So, do you have time to describe it? How you managed to obliterate an entire species? I have a notebook. Can I take notes? I mean…”   


The Great Engineer stared at the purple-haired being, then at Catra. He scoffed, “A rag tag group, here to save a girl… and yet you know not the consequences. Here she is safe. The Order cannot seize her. They cannot complete the ritual.”   


Catra flung her arms up, “Ok this is really  _ really _ annoying. WHAT ritual?”

The Great Engineer huffed and glowered at her. He looked about the room, as if searching for inspiration, “I suppose I must begin at the beginning, for your education is  _ lacking _ .”   


“Yeah, the Weavers don’t  _ teach _ us much except how to kill really  _ really _ well. And you’re testing me.”

Red eyes bored into her and Hordak chuckled, “You are a child. A blind thing scampering about the world who thinks herself  _ capable _ . Minor victories do not make you a warrior of repute; a knife in the dark does not raise you an envoy of death. I slaid a  _ race _ to prevent the arrival of true slavery. I would do much worse to ensure it does not happen again; your threats of bodily harm are no motivator.”

Catra met those eyes but found she had to look away. Perfuma touched her arm and stared at Hordak, “Well then, oh-all-powerful magi, enlighten us.”

The dryad had her back ramrod straight, her chin raised in defiance. Hordak just looked amused once more. Bow was still looking on edge. Catra glanced at him and shook her head. The Great Engineer noted her gesture and chuckled again, “You will not break the container. It was forced with glass melted from dragon flame, sand crystalised and melted to such a degree it is stronger than  _ iron _ . I credit you with determination but I am so sorely… confused.”

Entrapta appeared next to the vessel and Hordak flinched. The enthusiastic girl tapped at the glass and Glimmer rolled her eyes, “Ooooh! Amazing construction. But how did you managed to use dragon fire? I mean, if you  _ killed them all _ ?”

Hordak pointed at her, “How did… what are you  _ doing _ ?”

“I see this… oh it  _ is _ a siphon. And these are… grounding crystals, along with copper.. Wires? What for?” there was a spark as Entrapta touched a bare wire and she shot backwards. Catra lurched forwards but paused as Entrapta sat up, giggling, “OH WOW! Tame lightning? How?  _ How _ ? It’s… like static electric but…  _ more _ ? Is that magic?”

The great engineer paused, “Um… it is… a system that converts the organic projection of magical energy into a grounded….” he shook himself and glared, “Step away from…”

“Inefficient - you’re losing too much energy through heat and diffusion. You need to  _ insulate _ the wiring. Even if you’re just bleeding the energy off maybe you could… store it? Hmm, how… how… metals? THings that retain charge?”

Hordak had raised a finger, but paused and nodded, “I… lack the materials to create suitable batteries, but certain fluids….”

“OH! Of course! Under certain conditions, acids can…”   


They spoke as one, “Hold a charge!”

Catra looked between them, then at Perfuma who looked equally baffled. Bow, however, interrupted, “Can we please talk about why there is a PRINCESS in a BOTTLE!”

Hordak and Entrapta looked at him, clearly a bit confused. Entrapta nodded slowly, “Right, yes. Aren’t you interested though, Bow? I mean, this  _ is _ ….”

“It’s really amazing and frankly, any other time, I would be running all over and probably nearly getting myself  _ killed _ by the huge amount of things that are clearly death traps in this room…” Bow drew a breath, “But  _ priorities _ .”

The two mechanists exchanged a  _ look _ and then Hordak stepped back, adopting his regal posture once more, “Very well. As you made this journey and… have intrigued me, I will answer your questions.”

“Finally,” grumbled Catra. Hordak ignored her.

“This world is…  _ primal _ . A place of raw energies. I am not a native… and arguably I am not a native of  _ anywhere _ . I am a traveller, a fugitive. A refugee of sorts,” he glanced towards one of the large windows and sighed, “When I arrived here, it was by accident, my… mode of transport caused a  _ schism _ . And those that pursued me were already here. I arrived to find they were in the process of drawing my pursuers here.”

The group exchanged a confused glance, but Bow stepped forward, “Who? You’re being really kind of vague right now.”   


Hordak’s mouth twisted, “Those you call  _ Weavers _ . They exist across many worlds. They are a subversive influence, a vanguard if you will. They find their way into the corridors of power, find the methods of push and pull. Manipulate the fabric of a world’s societies to conform in preparation. And in doing so set the stage for the  _ arrival _ .”   


Catra felt her fur shift, her tail fluffed out. Something clicked into place and she tilted her head, scarce able to believe it, “The Shadow…  _ Primus _ ?”

Hordak nodded curtly, “Indeed. The Weavers here were well placed, prepared. They had advisors in every Kingdom, had routed the Light utterly,” he gave a snort, “Not that that is much of an alternative. Or a  _ challenge _ . They were… making use of the natural energies of this world, keeping the Kingdoms docile and at each other’s throats. And they were harnessing the foci of the energy of this world.”

Entrapta clapped her hands, “The  _ dragons _ ?”

“Indeed. Colossal beings that defied physics, biology,  _ reality _ . A one hundred tonne lizard capable of acrobatics and breathing the elements? Please show me the evolutionary path for  _ that _ . No, they were a source of power.”   


Perfuma exhaled, “How do you…  _ harness a dragon _ ? Like you said, big lizard.”   


“Appeal to weakness,” growled Tong Lashur, who now launched against a work bench, “Dragons big. Not  _ wise _ .”

Hordak gestured to the lizardman, “The brute speaks truth. Dragons were magical. But mostly avaricious, short sighted beings. Acquisitive, slaving monsters that only wished to grow their domains. Raw power. Like flame, they had now real motivation, only a desire to consume and grow. But give a fire  _ intellect _ … and you are in trouble. The Weavers were not draining their power; they were  _ using _ it however. Ever subtle. On my arrival, I ascertained what was happening and knew it must be stopped.”

Tong Lashur rumbled again, “How did they die?”

Entrapta clapped her hands and looked around the room, “This building… it’s… like a giant  _ sceptre _ ! Like how mages use staves to amplify power, did you…”

“Almost,” Hordak gave her a faint smile - it looked strange on his face and he seemed surprised he’d done it at all, “This… building was not quite so scabrous as it is now. But I did not use magic. I am not magi, no conjurer. But I can impact reality. But I do know how to  _ impact _ magic. To interfere with it. To  _ release _ it from its bonds,” he looked uncomfortable, “It is a lesson all Weavers learn, after all….”

Catra gasped, Bow clutched at his quiver and Perfuma looked ready to fight. Catra found her voice first, “So… you were one?”

“You are struggling to keep up, are you not?” he sounded irritated, “I was one of the  _ first _ . I was one with Primus. I am of his mortal form, his ascended being,” he sneered at the floor, “and it repulses me. To be given form, but not mind? To be given physicality but no method with which to experience it… without  _ punishment _ ?”

The group stared at him. Perfuma looked him up and down, “You… don’t look like a demon.”

“Demon? Hah! Paltry djinn and spirits. Primus is no denizen of some lower dimension. He is a pan-planar  _ thing _ . A creature that despises individuality, disobedience, disorder. He is the  _ god _ of Order.”

Bow shook his head, “That’s… the Light of Hope surely?”

“Boy, you know nothing of your histories. The  _ Light _ is merely another Cult. To another being. To another  _ thing _ . A thing that desires obedience also. But just… demands it another way. The pair have been locked in combat for eons.”

This was all far too much. Catra ran her hand through the mane of her hair and shook her head.

She’d wanted a simple  _ job _ . A kidnapping. Maybe a couple of bounties? Hell, she now wished they’d done that gnome clearance.

Eldritch beings? Gods? Cults?

She needed a solid tankard of  _ ale _ . With a groan she leaned her head back, “Great, so, what, you stopped the big scary thing from hell getting here by.. Somehow killing dragons?”

“By sending out an amplified disruption spell that severed their magic across the planet, yes. The result was…. Rather more explosive than I had anticipated.”

The feline rolled her own eyes and saw Glimmer shaking her head in amusement. Catra snorted, “Well, stopping a physical impossibility from being self contained probably wasn’t a great idea.”

Hordak sneered at her, “If you come up with another solution, do feel free to share it with the wisest minds of your era. It worked, the dragons died, their power was released and the Weavers had no way to immediately seize it and channel it. The death of the dragons also destabilised the nations and… well, the Weavers found themselves no longer required. A number of their…  _ Sisters _ perished as a result of the feedback from the strike. A happy side effect. The rest of their fall from grace? That I do not know, but I suspect the Hope of Light took advantage.”

Bow pointed at Glimmer, “So what does this have to do with  _ her _ ?”

“Everything,” The Great Engineer stalked over to the bottle and tapped the glass, “The runestones were a known quantity. But without the dragons, they became  _ much _ more empowered. And there was no way for the Weavers to siphon that power. No way to easily control the beings that harnessed them: the Kings and Queens and  _ Princesses _ of this world. Not when they were barely more than an order of begging assassins. But, it appears they have found a  _ way _ . The power of a rune stone is intrinsically tied to the bloodline. And the only way to truly siphon its power is via  _ donation _ … willing, not coerced… or by  _ interception _ of the link. They have tried before, I understand - murdering a Queen and trying to grapple their newborn to subsume the power.”

Perfuma raised a hand to her mouth, “What…?”

“Oh it didn’t  _ work _ . A baby with the power of a runestone and the instinctive knowledge that its mother has just been killed? Ended very badly for the Sisters and Brothers involved. Likely another reason they have been so diminished. But now…?”

Catra nodded towards Glimmer, “They wanted to kidnap her…”

“Of course. Hold her in a similar way that I am now. Likely murder her parents at a set time then use an incantation to subvert the transition of the runestone’s power to open the schism.”

Tong Lashur chuckled, “So, you keep sparkly thing locked in here? Then what?”

“I wait for the Weavers to die out,” they all stared at him. Hordak shifted, “It is a sound tactic. I am… long lived. They are diminished.”   


Catra shook her head, “And what about the  _ other _ runestones? If the other royal lines have children?”

“Then I will simply seize the heirs and inter them here, ensuring the world is kept safe. And if I cannot…” he pursed his lips, “Then mayhap this world must be sacrificed as a firebreak against the encroachment of his foul Shade.”

Perfuma glared at Hordak, “You… monster.”

He stared back at her, impassive, “The fate that awaits this world should Primus arrive is worse than death. Unending, unyielding subservience. No respite. Nothing but the endless glorification of his being, toiling forever in endless, repeating tasks until you wither and  _ die _ . Except you will not  _ die _ . You will continue. I would consider my actions a mercy.”

Catra shook her head, “It’s… it’s too big. So, what, now you’ve locked down Glimmer and Scorpia…”

Hordak blinked, “Scorpia?”

“Uh yeah. You said you had the key… I see Glimmer, but if you’re so sure… I guess…” she shook her head, “You did intercept her as well? WIth your tin toys?”

“What is a Scopria?” he seemed frustrated, “Some sort of pet?”

“She is MY FRIEND!” Catra stepped forwards, shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed, “And she’s a fucking  _ Princess _ as well.”   


Hordak somehow  _ paled _ further, “A… wait. No. The Frostan Princess is now Queen; The one beneath the waves is… empowered. There are no  _ heirs _ . The Scorpion...princess… is….”

They watched as he slumped back against one of his many machines. Catra glared at him, “Well informed for a hermit.”   


“I… the refugees. They bring tidings. I have… spies. A necessary reality. None may  _ leave _ save those most trusted,” he seemed distracted, almost panicky, “This… is intolerable. I must... I must  _ end _ this before they…” he moved then. Towards a machine to the back of the room. Next to which was a large…

Lever.

Razz’s words clunked in her head.

Catra moved fast, her body moving in a practiced sweep. Hordak’s legs went out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. She was on him in a single movement, blade to his throat. Red eyes glared up at her, his skeletal visage bared into a snarl, “Unhand me,  _ worm _ .”

“Oh, name calling. Mature,” she glared at him, “I don’t want to risk you doing something  _ rash _ . Your stupid kidnap was  _ why _ they got Scorpia. She was  _ in hiding _ . NO ONE knew about her.”

“Of course they  _ knew _ . They may not have known  _ who _ …” Hordak winced as the blade pushed against his throat. Suddenly his hand jabbed into Catra’s side and she locked up. Green lightning coursed across her body and she screamed. The next thing she knew, she was in mid air, Hordak upright and holding her by her neck, straight armed. His gaze bored into her, “I invite you here and you try to  _ kill _ me.”   


“You… hng… want to kill us….” she hissed. In her periphery she could see Tong Lashur had his blades free. Bow and Perfuma had bows drawn, arrows levelled at the Great Engineer. Hordak smiled thinly.

“Think  _ carefully _ . I am what the Weavers modelled the  _ Brothers _ on. Do you really wish this fight?”

Catra’s blood ran cold. She could see the others look equally unnerved. She swallowed, “We can stop this… you don’t need to end… hng… the world.”

He regarded her and tilted her head. Movement made him turn, and Catra saw Entrapta by Glimmer’s bottle.She had something pointed at Hordak’s machinery - her flaming oil sack or something, Catra couldn’t be sure. The purple haired girl looked distraught.

“Don’t hurt my… friends. I don’t want to break all this but… but I WILL. We have to help Scorpia. You can help too! Look at this! All of this! You made a city in a  _ desert _ . You make metal  _ move _ . You are an  _ ENGINEER _ .”

“I… I am a killer. I slew a race.”

“You freed my people,” that was from Tong Lashur, “But this is why you hide, no?”

Hordak swallowed and glowered at Catra, “I am… a bastion. But Primus is… I thought him  _ gone _ . This place, this world safe from his claws.”

Bow licked his lips, “Put her down. Slowly.”

The Great Engineer tightened his grip for a moment then sighed, “If we do not stop them, he will consume this world. He will take your minds. Make you watch as he kills or takes your loved ones.”

Catra wriggled, then twisted in Hordak’s grip. Her fist caught his cheek and he stumbled. She used his arm as leverage and flipped, then brought her heel down on his collar. He crumpled , then looked up with a glowered as she rolled away. Catra tilted her chin at him, “I don’t like negotiating while being  _ strangled _ . Now, can we do this without this all going to rat shit?”

Perfuma glanced between them, then lowered her bow. Hordak latched onto the movement and paused, “A fight would not be… practical.” He said it through gritted teeth.

Catra bit back the desire to  _ mock _ him. Just in case. Perfuma spared her a glance, but focused on the Great Engineer, “No… we want the same thing. We just… want our friends back.”

He regarded her and stood, slowly, “You are a dryad.”

Perfuma smiled and nodded, “Good eye.”

“You are… far from your roots. And a fight would not be… as easy as I had assumed,” he shot Catra a look and gave her a faint nod, “You pick choice companions, Weaver.”   


“I am  _ no _ Weaver.”   


“True enough. You should have killed me sooner if you were. But you know we are at an impasse.”

She nodded, “No guarantee you won’t just… trigger whatever doomsday machine you have in here to, what, burn the world?”

“Indeed.”

She sighed and resheathed her blade, “But that doesn’t stop Primus, does it? It just… denies him a world, if what you say is true. And… do you  _ want _ to do that? What’s the point of all… this?” she waved at the building, then at the windows, “You built a town, like Entrapta said! Why?”

Hordak’s jaw flexed and he looked at the floor, then up at the ceiling, “For eons I had no name. No… identity. All was the Light and the Shadow. I sang his praises and bent myself to whatever whim there was. Until the day I had a thought of my own. I feared it. Treasured it. ANd then… he took it from me. I hid my thoughts better after  _ that _ day. You do not know isolation until you have no  _ form _ and are trapped in endless silence and darkness.”

Catra swallowed, her mind flickering back to the favoured punishment of the Sisters - the isolation cell. A dank, dark pit in the corner of the monastery. She had gone in there twice. Adora once. Neither had fared well.

Her mind slipped back to Adora then, to something Hordak had said.

The Hope of Light? 

Hordak was still speaking, “I fled. I pretended subservience but found a physical form,  _ this _ form. I found a world, a foundry. Built myself an escape and then… cut myself off. I was alone. And here… for the first time, I felt that loneliness. So… I built a refugee for the castaways, the dispossessed. One rule - once here, you must remain. I found a brother in the bowels of my vessel, brought his mind to life. And… I am not alone now.”

Catra stared at Hordak. The Great Engineer. The bogeyman of the Kingdoms. A quiet, reserved,  _ frightened _ being, “You are… something else.”

A hand suddenly clasped Hordak’s. Entrapta stood next to him, her own gaze on the floor, “I know… how that feels. To not belong. To try to make something new. And to be… scared of losing it? But… destroying it isn’t the answer. I know,” she looked up at him, a sad smile on her face, “I tried that too. It didn’t stick.”

His red eyes studied her and he shook his head slowly, “Who  _ are _ you?” his voice was quiet, confused. He flinched at a hammering on glass and they all turned to stare at Glimmer, who now had her hands on her hips and was gesturing at her surroundings with an impatient air. Catra couldn’t help but laugh, then coughed to try to hide it. Unconvincingly. Hordak stared hard at the Princess, then at the machinery around them.

He heaved a sigh, then looked at Catra again, his gaze hard, “I built this place from rubble and scraps. I gave the people below a home, a purpose. Safety, security. Their lives are their own, as long as they accept rules.”   


“So… they live their life in glory to  _ you _ ?” she shook her head and smirked as he glared at her.

“Any society requires sacrifices of liberty. But I demand no worship, merely co-operation. Any who come here  _ must _ stay. To do otherwise risks bringing invasion. I would not jeapordise them so. What you ask risks jeopardy for the  _ world _ .”

“So you promise death in return?” fired back Perfuma, gently, “We made it here. With Glimmer, we can save Scorpia. With  _ Glimmer _ we can rally Brightmoon. With  _ Scorpia _ we can rally the Scorpion Kingdoms. We can take the Weavers and destroy them. We can  _ stop _ Primus. Maybe find a way to prevent him getting here at all. Surely that is  _ worth _ trying.”

Hordak regarded the dryad for a moment then sighed, heavily, “It is a great risk. If the Weavers have her, then the wheels are in motion.”

“Look, can you tell us how long we have?” Catra practically hissed the words, “Maybe… maybe if we have a deadline then, I don’t know, we don’t get there in time, you can set fire to the world or whatever. But I will not… leave…”

She faltered as the thoughts finally crashed into one another.

Hope of Light. Another being. Another thing like  _ Primus _ ?

And Adora…

Hordak saw her stumbled and his glare shifted to a confused expression, “I… could do that, perhaps.”

Catra raked her hand through her hair again, “Hope… the Light of Hope, Hope of light, whatever they are…. What  _ are _ they?”

The engineer shrugged, “A cult. But the being they follow. This… Hope? I do not know her. I know only her machinations are harsh and cold. She demands devotion much like Primus. And she brooks no disobedience. She was once kind, but the war with Primus has turned her ruthless. Eons of strife… take their toll even on an immortal being.”

Bow stood next to Catra and touched her arm, his face suddenly as pained as hers, “Adora?”

“She… went to their temple. I dreamt.. I saw her. Saw something…”

Hordak was suddenly in front of her, “You are in league with the  _ Hope _ of  _ Light _ ?”

She blinked at his proximity and snarled, “No! I… a friend. She… is part of them. She was taken from the We-”

A screech interrupted them as a  _ thing _ flew in through one of the windows. The group recoiled from it - a small, child-like  _ thing _ with bat wings. The pudgy, blue creature circled the room then flapped in front of Hordak. The Great Engineer’s face softened and he held his arms up to receive the small creature. Catra goggled at it. Entrapta squeaked with interest and Tong Lashur snarled in surprise.

Hordak stared at the creature, then walked over to a table, where he gently sat the beast. He attached a set of wires to the creature’s temples, then connected the ends to some sort of hand cranked device. He wound the machine and light spilled forth, flickering to reveal an image suspended in the air above the device.

With a stutter, a grainy image of the vast desert of the Frightlands came into view. Then a column of dust. Catra squinted as she made out a body of men - perhaps two or three hundred, marching in a loose formation. The view shifted closer, revealing that most were rag-tag; almost beggar like. But to the rear came men in bronze armour - their garb that of Brightmoon’s army. Hordak turned to look at them with an arched eyebrow, “Reinforcements?” he sneered.

Bow frowned and shook his head, “No… we were planning on… bringing Glimmer back first. And those others aren’t… military.”

The view panned to the front of the column to reveal four riders. Catra gasped.

Three women in identical garb. Two rode abreast of the fourth rider, the third behind.

And the fourth rider: clad in full plate mail. Blonde hair cascading in a plume from her helm; a greatsword slung on her saddle; her steed a great, white unicorn.

But she swayed in the saddle, the grip on the reigns clearly loose. Catra felt a red hot anger rise in her gut. Something was  _ very _ wrong. Hordak stared at the image then turned to look at Glimmer.

“They come for  _ her _ . Their intent is the same as the Weaver’s. I am… ashamed I did not foresee this.”

Bow looked confused, “Foresee what?”

Hordak chuckled, “The Weavers infiltrated all of society to bring about the coming of Primus. The Hope of Light have fought them, beaten them back. Of course they would look to secure any vulnerability. They believe they can keep her safe.”

Catra cackled, “Well, they were doing fine…” She heard a cough from Bow and shifted uncomfortably, “Alright… until I screwed it all up.”

Hordak shot her a confused look, then regarded the image. He pointed to the women at the front of the column, “Mages. In such numbers. This…”

Tong Lashur rumbled, “Mages. Bad as dryads. Bad day today.”

“Send out your chariot things,” queried Bow, “That’ll… help, right?”

“Against magi in an open field?” Hordak scoffed, “No. They will need to get closer to the city. Then I will… deal with them.”

His confidence alarmed Catra. He seemed completely unperturbed, “Uh… what?”

“They will try, they will fail and then we can continue our discussion as to how to  _ resolve _ this.”

“You’re going to… kill them?”

“They will try to breach, I will have to repel them. They will not tolerate me, let alone this settlement. I must defend my people. The Hope of Light do not  _ care _ . Everyone here is tainted by association with  _ me _ ,” he glowered.

“Let her go, let us take her out… there doesn’t need to be bloodshed,” ventured Bow. Hordak regarded him.

“You think me a fool? You may betray me once beyond the gates.”

Catra growled, “And you could flick that switch....”

He glared at her and she returned it with equal ferocity.

“I’ll stay.”

Catra blinked and looked to her side. Entrapta shifted uncomfortably and smiled. The feline blinked, “Uh, what?”

“Look, I don’t want… to die, you know? In a world ending whatever. I want to learn. And I can LEARN so much here! I can stay…. And Hordak won’t do anything rash. Will you?”

Hordak stared at her, confused, “Why?”

“Loneliness isn’t fun. And, all things have their place? A machine doesn’t work without its components… and I feel like this is where I fit.”

Catra shook her head, “Entrapta you… don’t need to… we need you!”

A purple tendril of hair reached out and patted the cat-woman on the head, “No. You need to talk to Adora. And to get Glimmer out of here. And to rescue Scorpia. I can do more  _ here _ . Find a way to… delay things, maybe? But you need to get  _ out there _ .”

Catra swallowed and shook her head, “When did you get so… sentimental?”

Entrapta grinned, her face suddenly pleased, “Am I doing it right?”

Her enthusiasm and pleasure was infectious; Catra couldn’t help the snorting laugh she gave out. She inhaled heavily, then looked at her other companions, then to Hordak, “Does that work? A sort of… hostage exchange? We get Glimmer out, we find Scorpia, we  _ stop _ the Weavers? And… we stop the Hopers trashing your little happy family settlement.”

He stared at her, those red eyes taking the measure of her, “If you can guarantee this place will be left in peace.”

“I can guarantee  _ I  _ won’t be the cause of it. And we’ll do our damndest to prevent them attacking.”

Hordak nodded slowly, “You will go out there, parley with them. And I will release your… Princess once I am assured they will lay no harm against my people. Their safety is paramount.”

Catra exhaled, “Good, fine. Great. Brightmoon  _ will _ have to help us if we return her. We can do this. Just… trust us?” He barked a laugh at that and Catra grimaced, “Ok, yeah that’s… a lot to ask.But if Entrapta stays here, then you know it’s mutually assured, right?”

“It is… an acceptable compromise.”

Entrapta clapped her hands, “YAY! I get to work with the  _ Great Engineer _ ! I get to make things that go boom AND build automata and…”

“Breathe, metal-girl,” chided Catra. She looked up at the hovering image, “I need you to make sure… he doesn’t start cranking levers that might open us up to world ending  _ stuff _ , ok?”   


Hordak shot her a look and she saw his gaze trail to the machine at the rear of the room. The one with  _ that _ lever. As she looked at it, she realised it was connected to the bottle in which Glimmer stood and fumed. He shook his head slowly, as if pondering, “It… well.”   


“Don’t even  _ think _ about it. Tong Lashur, you stay with Entrapta…. And escort Glimmer down when we’ve… done with negotiations.”   


The lizard man grinned toothily, “Yes. Good plan. No using sparkly person as coal ember for big death dealing, no?”

Catra and Hordak both stared at him. Entrapta glanced at the machine and nodded slowly, “Ohhh, I see. It uses siphoned magic as a trigger for some sort of… explosive cascade? Feedback into a runestone maybe? But… hmmm, no guarantee it’d actually generate enough power. Maybe if we tied it into…”

The reptile leaned forwards and shook his head, “No ideas for scary red-eyed man.”

Entrapta stared back at him, then smiled, “Good point.”

Tong Lashur nodded, then looked at Catra, “You best be getting ready for lady friend.”

“What?” Catra flinched. The reptile nodded at the image.

“Mages. Bad news. Plan?”

Catra hissed and looked at her friends. Not companions. Not colleagues. Not… allies. But  _ friends _ .

It was scary how quickly  _ that _ had happened.

“I am… open to suggestions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was tricky to put together - couldn't quite get the pacing with Adora's arrival right, or a balance of exposition vs info dump. Had a few versions some more comedy than others (Didn't fit); another where it turned into a fight.
> 
> Except that felt contrived (And if Hordak is the Ur Brother, it should be a curb stomp as he's on home turf); I also wanted Hordak in this to be... insular, isolated and NOT a warrior, really.
> 
> SO, here you have some INFODUMPING and EXPOSITION. You get the gist of the plans, the IDEALS of the factions (Some of them at any rate).
> 
> Next chapter should be FUN ;) then we'll start towards End Game.... for this little story of our wandering mercs.
> 
> Again, apologies for the delay with this one: side tracked by the other stories, the challenge or pulling this fragment together and real life work stealing valuable writing time!
> 
> As ever, please do leave a comment to let me know your thoughts and feedback. Wanted to get back to this one, my first EPIC with these two.


	23. The dance of destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations do not go as expected.
> 
> Magic begins in earnest
> 
> A declaration is made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW - sorry about the delay on this - got all caught up on other things, plus this chapter... well I had a SINGLE image I wanted to get in there and the rest wouldn't fall into place. AS such, I hope you enjoy this, I believe it works well!

The walk back to the main plaza was surreal. Kadroh hummed as he led them through the streets which were now devoid of obstacles and the convenient barriers that had marred their progress. Now there were just the clanking automata and the rolling chariots that occasionally passed by.

Perfuma still seemed nervous, clearly ill at ease being surrounded by so much  _ civilisation _ . SHe asked, perhaps for the fiftieth time, “SO, um, plants?”

“We have quite the greenhouse! Oh and there is a species of subterranean root based plant. Tuba’s I believe. Very starchy. Excellent supplements!”

Catra glanced at the Dryad and arched an eyebrow, “Getting antsy for those rolling acres of woodland?”   
  
“Hardly… just need to know if we can call on… auxiliaries, you know?”

“Well, that  _ would _ be useful. But are ‘taters going to cut it?” chuckled the cat-girl. Bow hummed on her other side.

“Depends if we want to  _ mash _ our opponents.”

The terrible joke cut into the tension and Catra sighed, “Why does the sparkly one keep you around? Can’t be for your humour.”

“I have many talents!” protested the archer. Catra snorted.

“I don’t need to know about your nimble fingers, thank you  _ very _ much, arrow,” she took satisfaction at his flustered expression. Perfuma seemed curious and just nodded. Catra rolled her shoulders as they took another turn, “So, we think we’re actually gonna negotiate?”

Bow grimaced, “The elite guard out there? Not sure… they’ll recognise me, but like I said they got…. Close to the Hopers. Even the Queen wasn’t quite sure of their loyalty.”   


Catra stopped and the others continued for a few paces before realising she wasn’t with them. She stared at Bow, “By the Shadow, you guys are  _ dumb _ . No wonder we were nearly able to take out you and Sparkling one.”   


“Huh?”

“You have  _ elite soldiers _ who  _ might not be totally loyal to the Crown _ ,” Catra dragged a hand down her face and stalked forwards, muttering about  _ idiots _ . Bow made a noise that sounded strangled.

“We…. well they  _ were _ loyal and then, well… the Hopers are very convincing and, well, the official faith of Brightmoon is of the Light of Hope and…”

“So all I need to do to kill the Queen is dress up like a priestess and  _ bam _ I can walk past the guards? Great tip, filing  _ that _ one away for the future,” snarked the assassin. Perfuma snorted and glanced at Bow.

“She makes a valid point.”

Bow spread his arms, “But... who would  _ do  _ that?”

“Me,” supplied Catra with a shrug, “Wow, for a politically ruthless and savvy nation you guys… do  _ not _ think about all the angles.”

“Hey, we nearly took out your ambush.”

“No,  _ Adora _ nearly took out our ambush. You nearly  _ escaped _ , admittedly. And credit to you… you expected one. But still. How are you a  _ competent guard _ ?” she eyed him and Bow let out an exhalation.

“I guess… well, the Light Hopers are  _ really _ good at self policing, so well… they’d spot you. And... well, we're good at rooting out spies...”

“EXCEPT you  _ outsourced _ your security? How’s that looking right now?” Catra chuckled and shook her head, then trailed off“And if they decide to… betray… you.”

The three of them shared a glance. Bow’s jaw worked and he frowned, “You… don’t think?”

“I don’t know,” mused Catra, “Seems… awful heavy handed? And why not bring  _ more _ Brightmoon guards? For the  _ Brightmoon _ princess, y’know? Lotta cultists out there… And Hordak did say they had the  _ same _ plan as the Weavers. Not quite sure how  _ that _ works but...” Catra chewed her lip, “I bet you a hundred gold pieces they don’t want to return Glitter to your queen.”

Bow sighed, “I’m not going to take that bet.”

They paused as they re-entered the plaza and Catra let out a whistle. It was devoid of citizens now. In fact they hadn’t seen many of the town’s residents. The square was now  _ full _ of automata. A good hundred of the bipeds, maybe twenty of the quad-spiders. And four of the larger walking monsters. Kadroh nodded, satisfied, then turned to them, “A small contingent will accompany you outside. We will maintain a rearguard should you fail and be brutally slaughtered by the interlopers! Good luck!”

The trio watched him go as he walked away, humming, then exchanged a glance. Perfuma pouted, “That was hardly a vote of confidence.”

Catra nodded, “Let’s try chatting. How’re you feeling about magic, flower-girl?”

“They won’t be able to touch us, as long as you are close to me. Unless they  _ really _ focus… then I suggest we prioritise subduing the magi.”

“You make it sound so  _ simple _ ,” growled Catra, her fur fluffing of its own accord. Bow tried to hide a snort and she shot him a glare, “Yeah, laugh it up. Then try fighting after they convince you your eyes are made of glass and you’re actually fifteen hundred feet in the air, whilst  _ really _ being turned into sand.”

The archers shuddered and Catra snarled to herself. They stalked towards the big gates that led to the tunnel. A contingent of ten bipeds joined them, along with a single quad-spider. The march through the tunnel was gloomy and unnerving. Ahead, another set of rusty doors creaked open, revealing the harsh light outside. Catra winced as her vision adjusted  _ again _ and they stepped out onto the bridge.

The automata marched ahead and formed a column for them to advance between. The Hopers had formed a lazy line just beyond the bridge, the three riders at the fore. And in front of them.

Adora.

Her helm remained on and her red cloak billowed behind her in the breeze. Her broadsword was driven into the sandy, hard dirt next to her.

Catra swallowed and strode to the edge of the bridge. Now she wasn’t barrelling towards it on the back of a hijacked chariot, she was able to take in some more details - like the strange spinning spheres that flanked the bridge atop small pillars. She turned and took another look at the walls of the city and noticed similar devices along the top of the walls. Brass, strange spheres, made up of spinning, interconnected rings. Similar to the strange mechanics within Hordak’s workshop and around Glimmer’s strange containment tube.

She filed that away as well, then turned back to the group in front of her. Something told her to stay  _ on _ the bridge. The metal beneath her feet felt far safer than stepping closer. Even if it was Adora; maybe  _ because _ it was Adora… and yet also not.

The way the woman stood, still as a statue, whilst the three figures behind her remained stock still, unnerved Catra.

The women, which Catra assumed they were, were eerily similar to the Sisters. Except they wore white ribes and the masks were more like mummers masks - carved faces, rather than blank red and black. These three had different expressions - the middle one a smiling visage, the one on the right an angry face, the one on the left a weeping caricature.

She spread her hands, “We come to parley. As friends of Brightmoon and neutral in the affairs of this city.”

“You are not neutral,” intoned the glowering face, the voice monotone.

“We see you,” came the morose voice of the weeping mask.

“Again!” chuckled the middle face, “You are another trial, despite her efforts to protect you. It is as if the fates have intervened.”   


“Hope for clarity,” the growl of the angry mask.

“Hope for release,” the sigh of sadness.

Catra glared at them, then looked at Adora, “...you did something.”

“An accord was made. Place yourself between the hunter and the prey and the result is yours in its entirety. You were spared before,” the middle face was all sing song and light, “We did not agree on  _ subsequent _ encounters.”

Her tail fluffed and the growl that came from her throat shocked even Catra, “And you call yourselves the  _ good _ guys?”

“We stand against something so dark that evil is too banal a word. Such childish things as attachment are worthy of sacrifice to prevent the darkness,” came the hiss of suppressed fury from the glaring mask, “Return the princess and we will scour the taint of Primes shadow from this place. You may experience our mercy and depart.”

Catra eyed the three Priestesses, “Why do I get the feeling you don’t just mean the Engineer?”

“This place is a scar, a blot. A testament to the folly of Primus’ corruption. It draws those away from the Light of Hope. It shows imperfection.”

Perfuma huffed, “He fights the forces of Primus! He stands against the Shadow.”

“Lies! He is an aspect of him! How can the Shadow not bend to that which casts it?” wailed the weeping mask.

“The dragons fell! A price worth paying?”

“Well, the dragons were the problem, weren’t they?” drawled Catra.

The three masks were silent, then the chipper one intoned, “Return the Princess. Then all may go as foretold. The war will end. The final battle may occur and all will be well.”

Catra twitched, “The dragons. You….wait,” she shook her head and snorted, “Your weird religion  _ wanted _ them to bring Primus here? Back then?”

“That is not of import,” snarled the rage-mask. Catra glared back at it.

“Oh but it is. You  _ want _ to start some celestial fist fight? And… Hordak messed up your last one? But why  _ wait _ ? Unless…. You couldn’t. Until  _ now _ ?”

The mask-wearers regarded her silently. Catra took a step back and focused on the three. Bow and Perfuma looked at her, then stepped back as well, bows unslung. The chipper-face chuckled, “You will not return the Princess?”

“You need her for the same reason the Weavers do. You want to… trigger something. You couldn’t before… didn’t have the power. But why  _ now _ ?”

“It is merely the right moment. Your order has forced our hand. We cannot permit them to be the ones to open the door. It must be done on our terms, to preserve the Light. Hand over the Princess, aid us in cleansing the mistake of generations past.”

Catra shook her head and pointed at Adora, “Let her go. And maybe…”

“She has given herself to us. She will stay. Goodbye.”

The air in front of Catra warped and twisted. The smiling-mask reached up and plucked a  _ piece of the sky _ from next to her (That was how it looked, as if she peeled a square of blue  _ from the air next to her _ .) then flung it at the assassin.

Catra had a sensation of vertigo as the square of  _ sky _ flew at her. She knew she’d end up in the air, far away, plummeting, ready to hit the ground.

Whilst still standing  _ right there _ .

And when she hit it would be the same end result. She would burst while standing still.

The spheres on either side of the bridge flared to life suddenly and the square of blue shrieked like torn metal, then exploded in a rush of air. Adora, still stock still, watched impassively, whilst her cloak whipped and snapped like in a gale. The horses behind her reared and whinnied; the cultists and Brightmoon soldiers staggered under the shockwave.

Catra blinked, then sent a silent prayer to Hordak. She looked to the archers beside her. They said nothing, merely drew back and  _ loosed _ .

Perfuma’s arrow whipped towards the sad-mask. But the magi merely cocked her head. The arrow shattered in mid-air then turned to grains of sand.

Bow’s arrow pinwheeled and the glowering mask  _ caught _ it.

Catra hissed and dragged them back, “Ok, new plan. Don’t try to attack the mages with arrows. Plan?”

The automata behind them whirred to life and began to clank forwards. They watched as a cultist, all ragged clothing and stitched leather, dashed to Adora, then knelt. He held up a weapon to her, which the armour-clad woman grasped.

A massive hammer.

Catra groaned as the looked at the juddering, tick-tock soldiers as they marched towards the bridge’s edge, “This is gonna go bad. Fall back, they can’t hit us with magic,  _ yet _ ….”

Adora stepped forwards, her sword still in the sand. The first automata lunged at her as she crossed the threshold onto the bridge - the spheres didn’t even react. Clearly it was a specific  _ thing _ that triggered them. Catra watched as Adora swung the hammer, watched as she caved in the head of the automaton. She spun, blocked the clumsy stab of another, then hooked a leg and sent it backwards, before delivering a brutal downward arc into the machine’s chest. Another closed in and was smashed to one side.

The trio watched as the cultists parted to let another group forwards - archers of their own. Perfuma hissed in annoyance, then drew and  _ loosed _ again. A man went down with a cry and the cultists moved, scattering to make for harder targets. The armoured forms of the Brightmoon soldiers advanced, bronze shields ready. The three magi drew back, seemingly uninterested, more focused…

On Adora. Catra realised all three were fixated on the armoured woman. And she noted that Adora’s movements were sluggish, not as well focused as she had been in the fight against the Brother. OR even against  _ Catra. _

What did that mean?

She wasn’t able to focus for long as she watched a group of cultists dash onto the bridge, around Adora and the advancing automata. One man was caught off guard as a machine suddenly changed direction and grappled him. The man’s scream was cut short as the mechanical trooper crushed his windpipe. 

More men poured onto the bridge, several angling to yank the bronze-spheres from their pedestals. Catra shook herself, “Don’t let them take those down, or we’re going to have a  _ bad time _ .”

Perfuma fired again, her arrow exploding into a tangle of vines as it caught one man in the leg. He went down, his cry muffled as the wooden arrow sprouted more vines that bound him. Bow’s next shot took another man down in a tangle of exploding glue. Catra inhaled then charged forwards. She vaulted over a stumbling automaton , then landed on the shoulders of a cultist, flipped and kicked the back of his head, before landing daggers first, on the chest of another man.

Only ten men were on the wide bridge, a clear test of their response - the Brightmoon guards stood back and the archers hadn’t fired yet. A feint to see their responses. Catra watched the other cultists abandon their assault and fall back.

Adora stood amidst the wreckage of seven of their “honour guard” automata. Another three remained, though one was missing an arm. Catra stared at her friend, then looked over at the waiting army. She licked her lips, then looked back at the ong expanse to the front of the citadel. The archers would cut them down before they made it. And they couldn’t charge. Hordak would likely let them get butchered.

This had been a monumentally stupid idea.

A sudden rumble made her turn again. The great gates at the end of the bridge had opened and a pair of spheres rolled out, towing another set of chariots. They bore down  _ fast _ , followed by a pair of columns of automata that seemed to be moving at a jog.

The Hopers seemed stunned, unsure what to make of the sudden rolling balls. Adora seemed to be taken aback. Catra grabbed Bow and hauled him down as the Hoper archers loosed a panicked volley. Perfuma huffed as a pair of arrows thudded into her arm. She snapped them off and tossed them to the floor, then drawback on her bow and fired a series of rapid fire volleys into the massed cultists. She stepped to one side and the chariots rolled past her at speed.

For her part, Adora staggered back,then dove out of the way as the machines crashed into the packed line of Brightmoon guards. Half of them, clearly more experienced with chariots, had spread out to try to avoid the charge; except  _ these _ chariots had no horses to lance; no riders to spear.

Catra sat up from her crouch, along with Bow, as the automata soldiers pounded past in the chariots’ wake. The Hoper formation crumbled as the tide of metal hit it. Bow looked confused, not sure if he should be  _ cheering _ the imminent slaughter of fellow Brightmooners. He looked at Catra, then frowned at her grimace.

“Those mages aren’t going to be stopped by this…” she huffed, “We need to take them out, before they just…”

Through the dust and scattered soldiers they saw one of the mages reigning her horse in. A chariot had wheeled and was bearing down upon her. As they watched, the mage threw up a hand.

The chariot came apart. It didn’t explode. It didn’t fall to pieces. It  _ dismantled _ as it charged; the debris flowed around the mage and her horse like a hurricane of bronze and iron. The chariot reformed on the other side of the woman, then bent and warped as steam exploded from with it. With the shriek of tortured metal, the device careened along, carried by momentum. The sphere at the front was frozen solid and wouldn’t spin, which made the whole thing pivot over itself and crash down to earth.

Whereupon it shattered like glass.

Catra swore, “Get in among the soldiers, make it hard for them to hit you… I’ll take Adora - I think as long as they try to focus on her… they can’t do  _ real damage _ .”

As they spoke, the air above them  _ screamed _ and the breeze picked up. The mage with the weeping mask had ridden her horse to their left and was now tracing intricate symbols in the air above her. A solid marble of air had compressed down, sucking in additional pressure. WIth a yelled curse, the mage released the pent up force, which erupted with a low bass-roar. Atop the walls several spheres spun to life. One exploded in a shwoer of molten metal and aprt of the wall crumbled.

Perfuma gawked, “They can’t cross there though!”

“They don’t want to cross - they want to destroy the place, flower girl,” growled Catra, “C’mon. We gotta keep them distracted. Then maybe Hordak can throw a toy into the mix that can  _ do _ something.”   


Bow swore and whimpered as the trio faced the army ahead. Then, with a shout, they charged. The archer leapt, pushed off a fallen automaton, then fired an arrow into a regrouping throng of dishevelled cultists. The arrow exploded into a smoking mist that sent the men into fits of coughing. A flurry of other arrows felled them in short order and Bow darted into the throng, tossing small vials of power and taking opportunistic swipes at the confused cultists.

Perfuma barrelled in, her arms becoming more akin to clubs as she battered her way into another group of rag-tag men. A man ran her through with a blade then gawked as she head-butted him, her oaken skull proving more than a match for his brittle nose. WIth a flourish, she whipped out the blade and jammed it into the throat of another hapless man.

The automata moved sluggishly, but with purpose. Catra surveyed the field and saw one crush a soldier’s wrist, another two having manhandled the Brightmooner’s shield from her arm. The third practically tore the soldier’s hand from her arm, then jammed its own bladed fist into the gap in her helm.

Nearby another automaton bludgeoned at a bronze shield, oblivious as a cultist tried to stab it. The blade skittered uselessly over the riveted bronze, and only served in keeping the panicking cultist focused. Too focused to stop another automata from grappling his head and  _ squeezing _ it like a ripe melon. Catra winced and turned to find Adora. 

The woman had rallied the Brightmooners for the most part, who were now easily keeping the juddering mechanicals at bay - save for the remaining chariot, that seemed more intent on harrying the panicking cultists.

The other two magi were focused on Adora, as well.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Hey, blondie! Come on!” Catra snarled and charged, fighting the lump in her throat.

Adora turned, the featureless helm centred on Catra’s advancing form. The Brightmoon guards cried out as Adora broke formation. The blonde smashed an automaton aside with her hammer, then shouldered another away. Behind her, the armoured soldiers cried out as an arrow slammed into the group, then sprouted thorns that scattered them apart. Catra glimpsed Perfuma as she nocked and fired-nocked and fired, her arrows drawn from the earth below her. Each shaft became a small growth, or bush or weight that unbalanced her target, snagged in armour, or tangled a wounded man.

Then a mage turned their attention to the Dryad. The air crackled and the soil became glass. Perfuma vaulted away, hit softer soil, then darted among the melee.

Catra took all that in and was  _ still _ able to duck under Adora’s clumsy swing. She darted up and slammed the hilt of her dagger into Adora’s back, then dashed towards the Brightmoon guard. One of the soldiers lurched forwards and thrust a spear at her. She sidestepped, grabbed the haft and yanked. The man squawked as he stumbled forwards, then gurgled as Catra lodged a dagger into the chik between breastplate and neck.

She was in the formation now; men and women turned to try to grapple her, but the had shields and spears, definitely not suited to close combat. Plus, most had their backs to her. And they were wearing skirts and sandals and front-facing greaves.

_ Idiots _ .

At least five went down to lacerations and shallow stabs, with several more howling in pain and anger as she reduced their formation to a grappling, cursing blob, her movements fluid and direct - slash, stab, twist, cut, duck, slice, jink, grab, pull, thrust, stab, leap. She pushed off a man’s shield as he turned, rolled over his back, stabbed another in the eye, then used that man to barge past another two from behind.

Then she was out in the open.

A mage towered over her on horseback. Cold, black eyes met Catra’s mis-matched pair. The  _ thing _ raised a hand and the fur across Catra’s face stood up as the static charge of magic suffused the air.

She reacted instantly, as her arm whipped out and a knife slammed forth. Into the neck of the horse. The mage cried out in alarm as the animal reared in pain. The sense of static fled and Catra darted away as a pair of Brightmoon soldiers rushed to the aid of the toppled mage.

The sand was a mess of wrecked automated and bleeding combatants. Catra glanced towards the bridge and grinned as she saw a fresh wave of reinforcements - another column of bipeds and five of the spider-quads. It would keep the magi busy at least.

Ahead Bow was mixed in a skirmish, surrounded by a score of wounded men; he was, however in none too good a shape himself - a good few cuts scored his thighs and an arrow was embedded in a shoulder pauldron. Catra changed direction and dashed across the blood-soaked ground to tackle another would-be assailant from behind. She stabbed several times in quick succession, then joined the archer. They were back near the bridge and watched as the reinforcements clanked into the fray. Bow cracked a grin, “Looks… like this won’t be that hard!”

Catra checked his wounds, which seemed superficial - even the arrow seemed to have not made it through the tough leather of the shoulder-guard, “Holding up?”

“Yeah, these assholes are… well there’s more than I thought. Out of arrows though.”

“Any sign of Perfuma?”

An explosion of soil a hundred yards away drew their gaze, and a tangle of vines and tuba roots sprawled towards one of the still-mounted mages. Fire fountained from no-where and drove the writhing plant matter back, but it looked to be a stalemate. Catra and Bow exchanged a glance, then shrugged. A cry, followed by a dull hiss of steam drew their gazes the other way, where they saw Adora atop one of the quad-walkers. Her hammer was embedded in the dome of the machine, which staggered, then collapsed on itself. As they watched, the warrior yanked the lump of metal free, then leapt down and crushed another biped-mechanical with an overhead swing. Catra gulped and Bow winced.

“You, uh… you ok tackling that?”

Catra shook her head, “We need to kill those mages… somehow… then maybe…”

Another walker nearby exploded in a fountain of earth. The soil rose in jagged spikes, which turned to acid and bent light at awkward angles. The machine fell apart, as if sliced. The angles of the cuts didn’t match the spikes of acidic soil. It all looked  _ wrong _ . Another mage cantered towards them, the air beside the horse warping in perception distorted waves as spears of light manifested, two dimensional yet with  _ depth. _

Catra swore, then hauled Bow to one side. They weren’t fast enough. The spears lanced forwards…

And thudded against a purple barrier.

Glimmer appeared in front of them, yelled a word that was probably bad in some forgotten language, then vanished again. She reappeared above the mage, landed on the back of the horse, then vanished, taking the horse, mage and herself elsewhere. Catra and Bow exchange a glance, then flinched as a body tumbled past them. Or parts of a body.

Tong Lashur strode up, a spear in one hand, an axe in the other. Neither were his, clearly. Blood dripped from his snout, “Clad I not miss fight. Tasted the foe. Found wanting.”

Behind him lay the other half of the Brightmoon soldier. Bow winced, a conflicted look on his face, “Wh...what?”

“You no pay attention! Mages use sneak spell. Another platoon try to get to bridge! Tut tut. Good job Red-eyed man have spy scope for magic spotting. You too busy chat chat.Also, Entrapta say best way to kill mage  _ with _ mage. Engineer decide since you look like dying, best to let mage girl die in bargain. Unlikely you would go so far for trick.”

They stared at him. Tong Lashur shrugged, then dashed forwards into the fray. He shoved the spear into the gut of a cultist, then left it, before he drove the axe into the head of another. Catra blinked as the reptile jinked to the side of a thrust, then winced as he grappled the poor soldier and  _ bit _ into the man’s neck. She watched as the reptile warrior tore the soldier’s throat away, then shook her head as the lizard tossed the still twitching carcass. She glanced at Bow, “Glad he’s on our side.”   


“....yeah,” he managed, “Ok, I need arrows. I’ll hold the bridge with those automatons. YOU need to distract Adora before she single handedly just… breaks all of the machines.”

Indeed, the warrior-woman was making short work - the cultists and remaining soldiers were sticking close to her. The other chariot was now a smoking wreck as well, the dismounted mage clearly having tired of it. The remains of the machine were stuck in a column of ice and bone that hummed with the wind. Glimmer reappeared with the other mage, but the horse was now a good hundred feet away and half in the ground, clearly dead. The two mages landed opposite one another and the air between them shimmered with heat and steam as reality fought. Grass grew, wilted, died, turned to gemstones, became sand, became a writhing mess of snakes. Purple sparks flashed and boiled in the air.

Movement yanked Catra’s shocked gaze back and she flipped away as a hammer slammed into the ground. Adora grunted through her helm and advanced again. The battle around them was spread out, but seemed fairly well matched - the humans had speed over the automata, the automata could easily overpower a single human. The Brightmoon guards were managing to corral the bipeds, whilst the cultists then bashed them down with clubs. The quad-machines were more of a challenge, but were spread out, the cultists using ropes to try to restrain them. And Tong Lashur was right - there was a whole  _ other _ contingent of troops in regular armour, not affiliation flags or uniform, currently being held back by some of the automata  _ and _ Tong Lashur.

But Catra’s main problem was the blonde trying to  _ kill _ her. She dodged another swipe from the hammer and tried to find an opening, but Adora seemed content to wait and swipe at her every time she tried to exploit a chance. Adora paused to heft a discarded spear she plucked from the ground, then jabbed it at Catra - that made things harder as Adora now had range. Catra turned and dashed into another melee, slicing the side of a cultists, then shoving a Brightmoon soldier aside. Adora gave chase, caving in the bulbous head of another automaton, then swinging wide toi cave in the chest of another. Catra paused as she saw Adora stumble and growl, the hammer jammed in the dented metal.

It was as good an opening as she’d get. Catra reversed direction and charged Adora. She couldn’t tackle the woman; too much armour and muscle. But maybe she could disorient her. Adora turned and tried to swing the spear in a swipe, but Catra slid  _ under _ the swipe and jabbed the point of her knife into the knee joint of Adora’s armour. The blade stuck and Catra had to twist and yank it out. The armour joint twisted and locked, and Adora staggered as it refused to hinge properly.

With a shriek of rage Adora flipped the grip on the spear and  _ threw _ it at Catra. The feline jinked and the weapon thudded into the ground a good twenty yards away. The steel-clad warrior snarled and abandoned her hammer to bullrush Catra. The move surprised the assassin, who tried to dodge but stumbled over a corpse. Adora caught her in the midriff, in a move that knocked the wind out of the smaller woman. They crashed backwards, then hit the ground awkwardly. Catra rolled away and cursed as one of her blades skidded off in the dust.

She saw Adora pushing herself up, the armour on her leg just deformed enough to make it tricky; the blood slicked sand and presence of motor-fluids and oil making it a bit more of a scrabble for the armoured woman.

Catra glanced past her and saw the downed automata with the hammer in it. WIth a grunt she pushed herself off the ground and leapt. She landed on Adora’s back, which forced the armoured woman down onto the ground, then dashed over. She rolled and grabbed at the hammer, her momentum allowing her to haul it free from the jam. SHe came up awkwardly, the weapon heavy and unfamiliar.

Behind her, Adora was back on her feet, unarmed but still clearly dangerous. With a roar that sounded more like a wail, the juggernaut pounded forwards. Catra dodged and swung the hammer, which clanged a glancing blow off of Adora’s back. The armour didn’t even dent, but Adora staggered. An automata stumbled towards her, but Adora just grappled it and shoved it away, then turned and charged again. Catra winced and tried another swing, but she didn’t want to  _ hurt _ Adora. She needed the mages dead and she wasn’t sure if that was even  _ close _ to happening. Glimmer seemed locked in a stalemate, Perfuma seemed to be trying hit and run attacks and the third… was back on her wounded horse, watching their little duel. Or rather, watching  _ Adora _ .

Adora had moved into a boxing stance and jabbed at Catra, who for her part was content to jink and duck. Would Adora tire, or was she being pushed on with unnatural motivation? Something caught the back of Catra’s foot and she fell back over the wreck of an automata, and was forced to roll away as Adora stamped down. When she came back up, her breath hitched.

They’d fought back to the bridge. Behind her she heard the twang of Bow’s weapon as he fired smoke arrows, or bolas arros or whatever the hell trick-shot he’d decided was suitable.

Adora, however, now stood next to her blade, still planted deep in the ground. The blonde flexed and gripped the sword, then drew it from the ground in a clean, fluid movement. Catra licked her lips and hefted the hammer.

“Catra, we need the mages….” Bow sounded tired. How long had they been fighting? Minutes? Hours? It all seemed so fast and yet… magic was always weird, it warped perception. The sun seemed further along in the sky. The distances between soldiers further.

All other sound narrowed, her focus on Adora; everything else as muted, muffled.

She shifted the hammer to her other hand, then adopted a low stance, before she powered into a run, at an angle towards Adora’s flank. The armoured figure moved, fast, sword out in a swing that aimed to cleave her in twain; except it was likely a lazy strike to  _ make _ her do something. Catra, slid under the swipe, back bent, then came to her feet and shifted direction. She swung the hammer, but Adora turned quickly, the blunt weapon meeting the point where blade and cross-guard met as Adora helf the weapon point down, her off hand bracing the weapon by the blade.

She staggered slightly, the spin and damage to her armour unbalancing her. Catra pushed the advantage and jabbed at Adora’s gauntlet. AS expected, her opponent jigged back, but swung her own weapon up as she did, which forced Catra back as well. To her right, she saw Tong Lashur slowly being pushed back himself, by spears and shields.

They couldn’t outlast this. The mages would keep Adora going. The Automata would be outmatched by the armoured soldiers  _ and _ the magi. She needed to… take out their key player to focus on the mages. She hoped drawing Adora’s focus would keep the mages off balance but it wasn’t  _ working _ . She need Adora to crack, to be so focused that the mages  _ had _ to zero in.

She darted forward again. And again. And again. Each strike a probe, a jab. But Adora was patient, blocking, offering a minor riposte here and there to drive Catra back. It was maddening. Adora seemed to be weighing her up.

“What’s the matter Adora, afraid?” She could just make out Adora’s features through the visor - a faint glimpse of blue eyes, “They screwed with your head so bad you forgot where the pointy end is supposed to go?”

Adora lunged and Catra gasped at the speed. A sharp jab she barely dodged, followed by a shift to Adora’s position as she drew the sword back, then another jab, followed by a step forwards and a slice  _ up _ , then down. Another step and a swing the Catra barely ducked, then a shift to turn the sword around in Adora’s grip to turn the weapon into a hammer. Or…

A hook.

The weapon came in low, behind Catra’s ankle and Adora yanked the weapon. Catra fell, but managed to roll. She swiped the hammer instinctively and it caught Adora across the helm as the woman stepped forward  _ again _ , with the intent to ram the pommel into Catra’s face. The blow smashed the visor-plate and twisted the helmet, and forced Adora backwards. With a snarl, the blonde ripped the helmet away and Catra choked back a shocked sob.

Adora looked  _ wrong _ .

Her hair was matted and tangled, her eyes bloodshot and wild. And her skin was marred with thin, red lines. Her skin was pale, almost corpse-like and seemed purplish in parts, neared the veins. The tiara atop her brown pulsed with an ugly, red glow. And her mouth was set in a feral snarl - almost a grin. But her teeth looked clenched in pain.

Catra shook her head, “...Adora…”

The blonde  _ screamed _ as the air around her vibrated with  _ something _ , then charged. Her swings were wild and vicious. Catra ducked and leapt, tears clouded her vision. She flailed with the hammer and knocked the steel sword away.

Nearby, Glimmer was crouched next to Bow, who appeared to have dashed to her aid. They hunkered beneath a purple dome as rainbow, oil slicked air slammed into them and the ground outside the bubble boiled and groped at them. Strange geometric shapes formed and sizzled on the air.

Perfuma emerged from the soil to Catra’s left, followed by a small contingent of pygmy like plant-things, half of which crumbled to ash as a wave of  _ something _ washed over them. Perfuma buckled, then fired another volley of arrows at one of the mages who stood tall. An arrow sunk into the woman’s forearm, but the mage seemed unbothered - the arrow  _ melted _ and dripped like wax to the sand below.

Another of the quad-machines exploded in a show of steam as a soldier rammed a spear into a glowing eye-socket. Tong Lashur charged and grappled a soldier, his form coiled about the armoured frame in an obscene embrace. Blood fountained and the reptile leapt away, plucking discarded weapons and parrying another assault - he was covered in blood and his movements slowed. Ichor and gore dripped from his jaws, hsi face set ina rictus of rage or fear or joy, Catra couldn’t tell.

But her focus was on Adora. In desperation, she flung the hammer, a move which surprised her opponent. It knocked Adora’s shoulder back and gave Catra an opening. She lunged and froze, blade at Adora’s throat.

“Yield, please,  _ yield _ .”

“She cannot hear you. She cares only for the Light now. That was the bargain!”

The mage beyond, the one with the laughing face. Adora stared blankly back at Catra. The feline stared back and whimpered. Her blade at Adora’s throat. Impotent. She stared and sniffled, then glared at the mage, “I’ll do it… I’ll… I’ll take your champion.”   


“No, you won’t.”

Catra cried out as Adora’s free hand came up and grabbed her wrist. She lifted Catra away and held her up, one armed. She dangled, helpless, in a strangely familiar pose. She stared, anguished, into Adora’s eyes.

Something flickered there. A twitch. Adora’s eyes rolled up… looking  _ above _ her? But only for a moment. Catra glanced up but the sky was clear.

“This little attempt at resilience was most amusing. But futile. And unnecessary. We will purge this place. Cleanse those who were lost to lies. Set these unnatural constructs to the flame. Fear not, your sacrifice will be remembered, for your death is what has allowed Adora to be truly free. To let go of paltry attachments. To give in, fully, to our guiding light. Good will triumph. Justice. None will fear the dark or the blinding light, only the warmth of truth.”   


“You’re… insane. Your god is  _ insane _ .”

Adora flung Catra back. The mage shrieked in indignation, “KILL HER! BE FREE!”

Catra saw the blade, saw the strike. She closed her eyes  _ at least it’s Adora. At least it’ll be quick. _ “What are you doing? KILL HER!”

The feline opened her eyes. The sword was a mere hair's breadth from her throat. Adora seemed frozen. Catra could see the muscles on her throat bulging, threatening to tear from the sheer strain and resistance. Words hissed from between her teeth.

“Kill…. Me…. Ca...Ca…”

A sob bubbled from Catra’s throat. A damn  _ sob _ . Another one. She snarled, “No.”

“Kill…. You….” ADora’s voice was a strained whine, layered with pain, “Pl..please…”

The gem on Adora’s forehead glowed bright. Behind her, the mage screamed and the air  _ pulsed _ with power.

Adora was  _ resisting _ . Somehow. To either side, the magical battle seemed to tilt. Glimmer’s dome erupted and the other mage was forced back, but it was still a stalemate; Perfuma was able to pull back, to rescue their reptilian ally in a swarm of cacti-golems, pulling the wounded creature to the bridge. The glaring magi, free from assault added her power to the wave. Adora buckled, but didn’t push forward. She sagged under the weight.

Catra reached out, eyes locked onto Adora’s blues. Again and again. Together, then apart.

Rage bubbled inside Catra. Rage at the  _ unfairness _ . The  _ lies _ . Adora had been there, then  _ taken _ . Then told she was something  _ more _ . But it had been a lie. She’d been made into  _ this _ , a leashed dog. Catra… Catra had suffered but she’d  _ chosen _ .

They’d taken the woman she’d loved,  _ still _ loved and tried to break her.

And they had  _ failed _ . Adora, she knew, would shatter first. The dream said as much.

The gem pulsed brighter.  _ Don’t pull it away dearie…. You’ll pull more than hair. _

_ Remind her what she left behind _ .

Catra reached down and tapped her belt. Adora’s eyes tracked and widened, then fixed back on Catra. The feline smiled, “Glimmer’s there. She’s safe. I’m here. I’m safe,” she swallowed, “You’re here. I…. I can’t lose you Adora. I love you. Always have. Even after all this time… it’s  _ you _ . I want to see… see if we….”

Adora wavered. Then she shuddered and  _ screamed _ . She tried to turn away, but the air pressure around them became unbearable. Blood began to ooze from Adora’s ears as she wept, “NO! NO!”

Catra broke. With a cry, she knocked the sword to one side and grabbed for the tiara. It  _ burned _ as her claws sliced the gem and she reeled back, her hand clutched to her chest, tiara gripped in a spasming fist.

The air around them  _ exploded _ outwards. The spinning brass orbs on the bridge turned to slag and the mages stumbled back. Adora wailed and turned. She flipped the sword in one hand and flung it like a spear.

Throwing a sword doesn’t work. Throwing a long piece of heavy metal  _ doesn’t work _ . Throwing a  _ broadsword _ doesn’t work. It won’t go far. It’ll pinwheel. It’ll. Tumble.

It won’t fly straight and true.

Or rather, it  _ shouldn’t _ .

The blade slammed into the chest of the smiling-mage, the magic around her sliding off the steel like water, her magic too focused on Adora. The woman was jerked backwards by the impact, the reins hauled backwards by her movement. The horse reared and screamed as the mage died, the raw magic she’d been holding onto now with no channel.

The air blackened and became a choking mist; the sand rose up and around the horse,  _ through  _ the horse. The animal screamed and shuddered as its lower half became crystal and bark. An extra limb sprouted and spasmed, then became a root. The creature, trapped in a rear, foamed, then slumped, dead. The mage writhed and shifted, her form melted like wax. The blade glowed cherry red with heat as the air around became misted with cold, the heat moving into the metal. The flesh of the mage bubbled and boiled as streamers of black glass coiled and warped, the body forming a trunk like some malformed tree; her features stretched and pooled, the mask elongating and cracking. The human form within the robes bent and broke as elements shifted into focus, like oil on water. Bones snapped, organs ruptured and turned to _other_ things. Clothe became paper became flesh became stone. The sky flexed around, perception blended then popped back with such force that everyone was forced to their knees.

The other two magi did not fare as well. They shrieked and collapsed, red lightning arcing over their forms. The Brightmooners and Cultists seemed to realise that their advantage was gone and broke. The soldiers were more orderly, but moved at a jog, some falling as Perfuma sent another volley of arrows after them. The Cultists were in chaos - some ran  _ towards _ the citadel, only to be cut down by surviving automata. The rest fled out into the bleak desert.

Catra stared and got awkwardly to her feet. In front of her, Adora swayed, then turned. The red veins on her skin had already begun to fade, the bruising slowly vanishing as her skin returned from its deathly pallor. She offered a gentle smile. 

Then her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we got there!
> 
> Next chapter I won't keep you guys waiting a month for! I wanted to show magic as.... powerful. Raw. But with bad side effects. It is NOT fireballs and lightning - it will churn up the world and eat you alive.
> 
> Anyway, I MAY tweak it, but let me know what you think! Does it work, did you enjoy it?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. I know Eternia is already "fantasy" but this is moving it more to a grittier / Conan esque fantasy view.
> 
> if I go weird on character voices, do flag. And comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!


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